


One Lifetime With You

by SheNeverWantedToLeave



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: A feel-good fic, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Because we could use something light and fun right now, Crack?, F/M, Fluff, Fort!Sex, Holiday festivities, Humor, Nerd!Jonerys, Smut, The Lord of the Rings References, an obscene amount of butt smacking/groping, blink-and-you'll-miss-it-angst, do we blame them i don't think so, editor!dany, just for fun, more tags as more chapters are added, pop culture references, teacher!jonsnow
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-06
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:00:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 48,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27414643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SheNeverWantedToLeave/pseuds/SheNeverWantedToLeave
Summary: It all began with a chance meeting at a Halloween party.
Relationships: Grey Worm/Missandei, Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen
Comments: 131
Kudos: 262





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Oh, hey!  
> So, this came from a mix of wanting to write something Halloween Jonerys mixed with anxiety over the U.S. election, and this is what came out of it. A little late on the Halloween end of it, I know, but it was a shit ton to write something so light for once. One chapter for now, but will be adding many more as time goes on, not in any special sequence, but more like fun and probably long drabbles kind of deal. I hope you're all safe and healthy out there, and I genuinely hope this might brighten your day even just for a few minutes. :)
> 
> Just a friendly FYI: There are some Lord of the Rings references in here, because hell yes to Aragorn!Jon and Arwen!Daenerys, but nothing too heavy that isn't self-explanatory or that isn't google-able. Enjoy!

"You look absolutely _gorgeous_ with black hair," Missi cooed, eyes widened and voice rising with each syllable. "But I don't get it."

"Really, Missi?" Dany scoffed good-naturedly, doing another spin to give her best friend a better look at her costume. She had spent three fucking weeks hand-sewing, hot gluing appliques, and obsessing over every single detail that it deserved much more respect than _I don't get it_.

Missi grit her teeth together, brows slanting with remorse as she lifted her shoulders. "Princess Jasmine?"

Sighing, Dany tossed her head back. She didn't care how dramatic she was being: this was ultimate friendship betrayal. Dany lowered her head again, brows raising slightly. "I'm Arwen Undomiel.”

Missi blinked, continually shrinking within herself with every wrong guess, and moreso when Dany blatantly told her and she _still_ was drawing a blank. She decided to torture her friend further. "You know: half-elven daughter to Elrond, who pledged to reject immortality and sailing to the undying lands with the rest of her kin so that she could spend the rest of her _mortal_ life with Aragorn? You know, only the most romantic pairing in literature?”

Eyes widening with recognition, Missi jabbed a finger toward her. “Oh! That one movie with Orlando Bloom and that super hot, rugged piece of ass.”

Dany couldn’t help but snort, but at least she was on point now. “Yes, Viggo Mortensen, but he is mine. It’s also a book, but anyway...you can have the pretty elf.”

“What?”  
  
“Nothing,” Dany sighed, waving her off, looking Missi over now that she was deflated by her lack of enthusiasm over her hard work. She still loved her, though. Dany’s brow pinched. “Now it’s your turn to explain.”

Beaming, Missi swiped her hand over the cropped leather jacket that read _YONCE_ , then pointed both of her index fingers down at the black-and-yellow striped leg warmers she had tucked into black leather boots. To finish the ensemble was a hip-hugging leather skirt and a headband with what looked to be insect antenna on them.

“A...leather...insect dominatrix?” Dany tried, cringing when Missi stomped her foot.

“Beyonce! Bee,” she lifted her foot to show off the leg warmers, but Dany shielded her eyes as Missi seemed to forget just how close her tiny skirt was to flashing her her lady bits, “-yonce!” She, once more, underlined the bold _YONCE_ in silver letter across her jacket.

Dany laughed at that, rubbing her forehead. “Alright, it’s not terrible, I will give you that. I _do_ enjoy a good pun.”

It was quite funny, actually: she and MIssi were so dissimilar in a lot of ways - especially in their hobbies and interests - but they were most alike in the ways that mattered. They often gave each other shit for their individual hyperfixations and flavors-of-the-weeks, but their friendship was built on the most formidable foundation Dany ever had the pleasure of creating.

“Let’s get a quick picture before we forget,” Missi suggested, pulling Dany over by her elbow. She quickly readjusted the long black wig on her head, and the silver crown that wrapped around her forehead to the back, pressing her face against Missi’s as she whipped out her phone and switched it to the front-facing camera. “Say _hot bitches_!’

“Hot bitches!” Dany grinned cartoonishly wide in unison with her best friend. “Hold still,” Dany said as Missi muttered excitedly about putting it up on _Instagram_ \- a phone application that Dany wasn’t entirely in tune with, because she loathed social media for a plethora of reasons, but Missi was always in her good graces because she trusted her. 

Carefully crossing the living room in the heavy gown, trying not to trip over her own two feet, she plucked her polaroid camera from the desk, loading it with a square of film and aiming it as accurately as she could toward their conjoined faces. With a blinding flash and groans from Missi that she would be seeing spots for the rest of the evening, Dany waited as it spit out the resulting image. As they made preparations to head out to Margaery’s Halloween party, she waved it in the air until the photo generated itself fully.

“Aaw, look how cute we are,” Dany said, turning the photo up so Missi could see it.

“The fucking cutest,” she agreed, kissing Dany’s cheek with a dramatic smack. “Ready?”

“So ready.”

* * *

Though her dress was very heavy and occasionally burdensome, Dany was forever grateful for the smokey grey chiffonto keep her petite body warm in the October chill. It was just after 8:30PM, and Margaery’s front lawn was already littered by various costumed bodies: mingling, smoking, drinking, the visuals quite comical when she saw what people were dressed up as.

Halloween was Dany’s favorite holiday, and Autumn her favorite season bar none, bordering on a dangerously thin line between over-obsessive to flat out feral. There was absolutely _nothing_ to dislike about the season: the weather was crisp and cool, there were rarely any bugs trying to sting her and send her into an intense allergic reaction, she did not have to worry about sweating through her cute clothes and ruining any attempts to look even just _okay_ , the color palette was extraordinary at all times and even rainy days brought on some strange, muscle-soothing atmosphere that she could live with for the rest of her days if she could. Plus, there was nothing better than the clothes, especially since she was often indecisive on which sweater or scarf or socks or coat she wanted to wear that day - but layers were always a solution, _and_ a socially acceptable one given the weather, too.

And Halloween? There was a reason why she went all-out every single year in regards to her costume (and her house - she was pretty certain her neighbors were mortified, if not slightly concerned. If none of her friends were hosting a party, she would seek them out locally, usually leaning towards the more thematic ones that fit her interests.

After some finagling of squeezing Missi’s car between two others at the curb, they made their way up the sidewalk toward Marge’s house. Orange and purple lights flashed and flickered across the front of it, window displays mimicking horror movie scenes, loud bass vibrating the cement below their feet. Once the door was pulled open, they were greeted by raucous shouting voices and blaring music, the small flat packed wall-to-wall with both people and decorations galore.

They ducked under some low-hanging cotton spider webs, Dany clinging to Missi’s arm as they made a bee line for the kitchen. Rather, to the alcohol.

“Missi! Dany!”

It was almost impossible to decipher whose voice it was over all the noise, until they turned to find Grey sliding between a girl in a leopard leotard and a very heavy set man, Grey’s face scrunching when he was sandwiched briefly between the two. Missi immediately embraced her boyfriend, and then he lifted his arm to hug around Dany’s shoulders.

Dany grinned at him. “Freddy Krueger. Classic.”

“What are you? Grecian goddess?”

“I expected better from you,” Dany chided with a gentle smack to his arm, happily accepting whatever drink Missi conjured up for her, taking a sip and smacking her lips. “Arwen.”

Slowly, Grey’s face morphed into something akin to mischief, and slow recognition. She raised her brows, ready to give him the same spiel as she did with Missandei, but then he held up a beer-clad hand, index extended. “Stay right here. I’ll be right back,” he pecked Missi’s cheek before disappearing into the throngs of people.

Narrowing her eyes, Dany watched him until she couldn’t see him anymore, then shifted her eyes over to her friend as they drank together. “What’s he up to? I don’t like it.”

Missi just shrugged. “Who knows. Apple pie shot?”

Dany didn’t know where she’d gotten them from, but a small tray of apple pie shots sat between them atop the counter they were leaning against. “Oh, fuck yeah,” she sing-songed, clinking the little plastic cup against Missi’s before tossing her head back, letting the sweet burn spill down her throat. “Gods, that’s good.”

“There they are,” Margaery materialized from one of the three rooms that led to the kitchen, dolled up as a very promiscuous bunny, her breasts about two centimeters away from spilling out of her leather corset. “How do you like it?”

“Everything looks amazing,” Dany breathed, allowing herself to be gathered up by Marge’s long arms. And it did, as a self-avowed Halloween detail nitpicker, Marge stepped it up ten-fold compared to last year’s slightly abysmal displays. Every room was covered almost floor to ceiling with some form of decor, though she suspected that she may have had help from her newest boyfriend, Robb.

“You outdid yourself this year, honey,” Missi said, the pair of them sharing an air kiss.

As Marge shifted away to say something to Missi, Dany took the opportunity to look around, mainly to observe the people and costumes around them, and then she was abruptly unable to fucking _breathe_.

Half blindly did she reach for and grasp Missi’s arm, tugging her along to hide near the wall, slightly away from everyone else. “Holy fuck. Holy shit,” she wheezed, Missi observing her with clear concern written all over her lovely face. Dany whipped her head up, huddled shoulder to shoulder with Missi, frantic eyes searching her face. “Who is that with Grey?”

Frowning, Missi went to look over her shoulder, but Dany forced her face forward again. “Well I can’t tell you if you won’t let me look!” She hissed.

“Right, sorry,” Dany muttered, rolling her eyes at her own self.

Missi did a quick visual sweep behind them, obviously trying to not make herself obvious. “Oh, Jon? What about him?”

“Missi, he is dressed as fucking _Aragorn_!” She squeaked, worrying her bottom lip, because that ridiculously handsome menace was not just _any_ Aragorn, but _ranger_ Aragorn. The epitome of sexy, rugged, strong, and slightly primal version, the counterpart to her very costume, and not only that, but he was stupidly, absurdly gorgeous. Viggo Mortensen as Aragorn in the films had basically been her sexual awakening as a pre-teen, and she would have put her life on the claim that absolutely nobody could have done the part justice better, both in regards to giving the character justice _and_ his physical appearance. Now, all it took was one simple glance for her to change her mind, because this man very well should be illegal.

“ _Oooh_ , I see,” Missi drawled, a wicked grin splitting her face, tongue jutting out to touch her teeth. Dany knew that face, and she did not like it. Not one bit. “You have such a lady boner right now, don't you?"

Dany groaned, because it was the truth. If she were a man, she definitely would have pitched a tent in her dress by now.

Next, she felt a jerking motion where her arm had been pressed against Missi's - and in seeing that Missi was motioning and the beautiful man who was with him over, Dany snatched her friend's arms and felt her stomach give a jolt. "What are you doing?" She squealed, hyper aware of the fact that they were already walking their way.

"Fulfilling your sexual fantasies, obviously," Missi defended, her shit-eating grin never faltering. Dany was absolutely mortified, but mainly because she was very confident it would be impossible to hold a conversation with this man without acting like a blushing maid.

The moment Missi turned away, Dany quickly downed two shots of straight rum that had just been set out on display, face scrunched against the bitter burn. Then, with a little extra courage, turned around to face them just as Missi was getting reacquainted with this Jon fellow.

Dany cleared her throat, grateful for the cover of music to drown it out, putting on a hopefully-not-terribly-forced smile as Missi guided Jon straight to her. Just like that, _not obvious at all_ , she glowered at her friend.

And by the gods, when their eyes met- his, warm and slightly creased by his gentle smile and glinting - she felt her breath lodge in her throat, because there was no doubt left that this was, easily, the most beautiful specimen of man she had ever laid eyes on. In fact, for a beat she'd even forgotten who he was dressed as, or that she was meant to be anywhere at all that wasn’t simply ogling at his handsome face or the luscious raven curls framing a strong, bearded jaw.

“Finally, someone with exceptional taste,” Jon said by way of a greeting, and for _fuck’s sake_ , even his voice couldn’t be just a hair less sexy?

She cocked her head slightly with an uncontrollably giddy smile, ignoring Missi and Grey’s sounds of protest at Jon’s comment. “Likewise,” she returned, privately relieved when her voice came out smooth and not strangled.

“ _Anyway_ ,” Grey interrupted, though their eyes remained fixated upon one anothers’ for perhaps a second or two longer than necessary, until deciding they should acknowledge their speaking friend. “This is Jon...Jon, this is Daenerys.”

Jon’s full lip pulled up at the corner, extending a hand toward her, to which she accepted and with a gentle squeeze, told him, “Just Dany works.”

“Dany here is the creme de le creme when it comes down to making her own Halloween costumes,” Missi said proudly, making Dany’s cheeks warm on top of the already sweltering body heat of the room - not to mention, Jon’s presence only added fuel to that fire. His face twisted into what appeared to be genuine interest as Missi talked her up. “She is also the most amazing human being in the entirety of the world, the most loyal friend. Just thought I would drop that one in there. You’re still holding hands, by the way.”

As Dany was getting ready to throttle Missi, she nearly yelped at the realization that, yes, they’d still been shaking their hands with a weak bounce, and they both repossessed their own limbs while Dany sought out exactly what she’d hoped was nearby: more alcohol. She snatched up four of them, passing them around wordlessly, trying to forget how lovely his slightly roughened hand had felt against her soft palm. “To spooky season,” she cheered, lifting the small cup.

“To spooky season!” The three of them returned, downing what Dany quickly realized was whiskey - her least favorite liquor, dipping her head with her face scrunched, trying her hardest to avoid gagging. Or worse, vomiting all over Jon’s Aragorn boots.

“You good?” Jon chuckled, and for a moment all she could do was nod for fear if she opened her mouth, neither of them would like what may come out.

“I’m good. That was disgusting,” she half choked, lifting her head and immediately finding Jon’s amused eyes on her. She wished she could tell what color they were - something dark, but also lighter near his irises. The play of red filtered light in the kitchen made it impossible to judge.

“Bruichladdich,” he purred, and now that she was starting to feel the tingling results of all of the shots coursing through her body, she thought he’d begun speaking another language, such as slurrvanian. Not elvish, however, much to her slight disappointment. Maybe she could get it out of him by the end of the night, or maybe she was being far too presumptuous. When she arched a brow at him in question, he smiled wider, a slight flash of teeth showing. “Scotland’s strongest whiskey. My cousin brought it,” he thrust his thumb somewhere over his shoulder, to wherever his missing cousin was.

“Ah, and yet you remain unfazed,” her eyes narrowed conspiratorially, only now noticing that Missi and Grey had slipped away unnoticed. She would kill both of them later, if this _Bruichladdich_ didn’t burn her insides away first.

“Oh, I’ve had my fair share of hot dates with my toilet as a result,” he said, making her snort at how charming this conversation was, “but I’ve grown a tolerance to it. Not sure what that says about me,” his dark brows furrowed a bit.

“It says that you should help me get this taste out of my mouth,” Dany said, and realizing belatedly how insinuating that sounded, judging by how he then regarded her with speculative, twinkling eyes. Next, she was quickly prodding her finger toward him, “with more alcohol, pervert.”

His hands went up defensively. “I didn’t say a thing - you were the one thinking it.”

She slid past him and rounded the counter, distracting herself by reading the dimly lit labels on the vast display of bottles against Marge’s shelf. “I did no such thing,” she deflected weakly, smirking to herself now that her back was turned to him.

His voice sounded so close to her ear then, that she gasped and lifted her shoulder. "What do you like? I'll make it."

She looked at him over her shoulder; he'd only gotten this close because everyone practically had to shout to be heard, but still...her entire body trembled, even as fleeting as it was. "Surprise me," she told him.

He scruffed his beard, eyes narrowing as he considered his options, sighing when he spotted something enticing, but…

She sent him a quizzical look, then quickly realized: he was too short. She giggled at his disdain, stepping over toward him. "Can you lift me?"

A bemused smirk danced on his lips. "Seriously?"

Wrinkling her nose, she lifted the heavy fabric of her dress - momentarily making Jon's eyes bug until her leggings were revealed. "Yes. Just promise to not crack my head open on anything."

"Would fit the theme, though," he jested, the back of her hand whizzing up to smack at his hard, padded chest. He chuckled, then twirled his finger for her to turn back around as he moved behind her, his hands strong and firm and making her heart quicken before he hauled her upward, setting her on his shoulder as if she were only a toddler. He held her steady, barely wavering as she reached upward and grasped the neck of the bottle he had in mind.

Carefully, he knelt down to his knee, allowing her to slide off easily. "Thanks," she said sheepishly, lowering her eyes to inspect the label. "Chocolate liqueur?"

"Aye," he smirked, sliding it free from her hands as he then flit about the small space, making a neat line of various bottles alongside two mugs, rather than glass cups. “I’ve never met a girl who doesn’t love chocolate.” Admittedly, she was very curious, and as she didn't wish to be in his way, she propped herself up on the opposite counter to watch him work. "Alright," he turned toward her, then raised three other bottles with a small wiggle, "peppermint, pumpkin, or butterscotch?"

She hummed thoughtfully, tapping her fingers over her chin. “Butterscotch.”

“Good call.” With a wink that went straight to her neglected loins, he went back to work, and she had to wait a good while before she was breathing evenly to speak again. He was acting as if he owned the place, rummaging through Marge’s spice rack and cabinets, but seeming to find all that he needed.

“I have to ask...bartender?”

He let out a soft chuckle, carefully measuring all the ingredients with utmost concentration. “In a past life, aye. I’m a bit rusty.”

“Hmm,” she crossed her legs thoughtfully, trying to picture him in several different environments. His garb gave nothing away - it was easy to deduce that he was at least relatively well fit, if his ability to pick her up like a feather and keep his balance was any indication. His face was obviously well-trimmed, so he had a sense of conscious appearance about him, too. Yet, she got the feeling he was humble, given the shy ducks of his head, but he was charismatic enough. “Detective?”

Jon sucked in a breath through his teeth, shaking his head as he had begun fixing together their hot drinks he was warming in the microwave, topping them off with the whipped cream can set out for pie, and handing her the first one. “History teacher.”

_Well, hot damn._ “Oh,” she said, happily accepting his secret concoction, the warmth in her palms making her skin erupt in gooseflesh. At least, that’s what she told herself, but partly it was the teacher thing doing it for her, added to the buzz she was carrying. “I don’t know what I expected.”

She lowered her nose toward the steaming liquid, her senses immediately engulfed by chocolate and butterscotch. Gingerly, she took her first sip, letting all the taste notes hit her tongue before she gave him an appraising look. “Wow. That is excellent.”

He half smiled, raising his cup toward hers with a _clink_ before they drank to that, but his eyes seared into hers, the light gray slivers allowing the flashing lights in the house to project like jewels within them. She was grateful that he could not see her blush the entire night. He lowered his cup, giving way to the tips of his moustache dipped in whipped cream. “My turn,” he said, voice slightly gruff, settling against the counter opposite her, “lawyer.”

Dany guffawed, shaking her head. “Absolutely not. Only if I wanted to be miserable for the rest of my life.”

She took her time drinking, not wishing to be sick by the end of the night, as he pondered his options, his gaze piercing her to where she sat. Despite the artificially lit room, his eyes were very soulful. He gnawed at his bottom lip, making her shift, unbidden. _Gods, get your act together, Dany. As if you’ve not shared twenty-four years on earth with the male species._

“Librarian?”

Dany cocked her head and lifted a finger. “No, but you’re within orbit now. One more.”

He grumbled about before settling on, “journalist?”

“I’m an editor for a publishing company.”

His dark brow rose some, pretty lips pulling at the sides to reveal a thin line of teeth. “That’s sexy.”

Dany blinked, and subconsciously, hidden behind the ceramic mug, pinched her own arm, because surely she had heard wrong? But the spell seemed to have broken, and he scrubbed at his beard, scrunching up his face as if he’d said something he regretted. “So is history teacher,” she rebounded, before her silence could make him feel any worse. She’d been out of the dating game - or, rather, out of the trying-to-find-a-decent-man-game - that compliments sometimes felt like they carried an ulterior motive.

She did not get that bad omen with Jon, however, even despite having known him for maybe a whole hour. It was one of those rare, but resolute, gut feelings she had.

His face and shoulders relaxed, and she convinced herself that he may be blushing, because her own face was hotter than the drink in her cup. Before either could say anything further, Marge’s voice cut out over the crowd, announcing that it was time for the costume contest. She and Jon, suddenly bashful around one another, made their way into the overstuffed family room. Dany was hyper aware of the fact that her arm was pushed up against Jon's; she could still feel the imprint of his fingers at her waist, and she began to wonder when she suddenly became so lecherous.

"Alright," Marge announced into a mega phone, the room silencing with complaints that she was too loud. "You voted, we listened. First up is creepiest costume…," Marge tilted the notecard, so tipsy in her stilettos that she tilted over herself with a yelp. Dany shook her head with a smirk, hiding her face behind her hand and peeking through her fingertips. She was immediately recovered without a scratch. "Wow. Anyway...Ramsay! For being himself, apparently."

As if they were in a stadium, the fifty-plus people jeered and cheered as the dark haired man with frighteningly orb-like eyes stepped up onto the makeshift platform, exaggerating a bow. Dany leaned closer to Jon. "What's he supposed to be, exactly?"

The guy wore plain clothes with no added effects, no Halloween makeup...he was just himself. Jon lowered his head so she could hear her, his eyes remaining on the scene in front of them. “Way back in high school, everyone suspected he may have murdered his dad.”

Instantly, Dany shied away from him to study his face for any trace of humor, but there was none. Instead, his plush lips downturned and he shook his head in response. “I’m not kidding. There were some very shady circumstances going on, but it was ruled a suicide.”

“Fuck. That’s dark,” she noted, eyeing the strange, round-eyed man, who she suddenly wanted to shove away from Marge and banish him from ever coming around again. He really did have the look of a murderer down pat.

“Okay, okay…,” Marge continued, her eyes widening and closing as she struggled, “ _now_ we have most _creative_ costume.”

“Oh, dear. She’s speaking in cursive,” Dany said, making Jon snort at her side. She continued to nurse her drink, suddenly needing the steadiness of Jon’s arm when a wave of dizziness caught her off guard. “Sorry. I think it’s catching up to me.”

“She’s speaking in cursive and you’re moving in it,” he laughed lightly, having caught her by her arm to steady her.

She cleared her throat, trying to zone in on what Marge was trying to say as she squinted down at the next name to call, gasping dramatically and throwing her arms up. “ _Missandei!_ Get your beautiful ass up here!”

Dany clapped excitedly for her friend, standing on her tiptoes and immediately settling back down once she remembered her balance was half of what it should be, watching as two fuzzy bee antennas squeezed through the crowd.

  
“Aah. Beyonce. Very clever,” Jon mused.

Grinning, Dany beamed up at Missi as she took the little heavy bronze trophy - Marge didn’t fuck around with the award ceremony - shoving it into the air amidst her victory. The crowd laughed and cheered, turning this into something akin to a sporting event.

Dany finished off the last bit of her drink, moving away briefly to set her cup on the counter before returning.

“Time for,” Marge drawled with a roll of her tongue, making Dany grimace even as she was nicely tipsy. “Couples costume!”

She couldn’t recall seeing any actual pairings in the house, not that she had been around much, but she was eager to see what was in store.

And boy, was she surprised.

Marge’s grin turned totally wicked, slowly rotating to stare directly into Dany’s eyes, then flitting over at Jon. “Dany and Jon,” she said with an added, unnecessary sultriness to her voice.

“But-” Dany stood there, frozen, eyes narrowing. Just off to the side, between a gap of people who were waiting for them to go up, were Missi and Grey giving the both of them the thumbs up with their faces stretched wide with the sneakiest grins, dissolving into drunken laughter at the pair of them.

“You bastard,” Jon shouted good-naturedly over to Grey. “Come on,” he said to Dany, “We deserve it, anyway. But wait,” he moved his hands behind his neck, bringing forth a very familiar piece of jewelry that she hadn't been able to find; at least, not one of upstanding quality that wouldn't give her a questionable rash on her skin. The Evenstar, a silver pendant with intertwining leaves and a white stone at the center. She watched him, curious, and also feeling her body seize up at the sheer amount of eyeballs on them, until he took up her hand and dropped the pendant in it. “There.”

She beamed at him, cheeks so hot she felt it roll off of her in waves as they snaked their way through the crowd, reaching behind her neck to clasp the chain at her nape. On their way, she spotted her friends once more who were positively eating this entire thing up. Sighing, she flipped them the bird with an over-dramatic smile before following Jon up to the stage.

“Sorry, there’s only one, because this particular category was created about thirty minutes ago,” Marge said with a pointed look to two very guilty individuals in the crowd, shoving the thing into Jon’s arms, who handed it off to Dany.

And the crowd went wild. Dany had a feeling she knew who was responsible for this entire set-up, rolling her eyes down at both Missi and Grey.

“Another round for the happy couple!” Marge declared, drunken _whoops_ and whistles deafening her.

“Oh, gods,” Dany groaned under her breath, further taken aback when someone brought up a tray of jello shots that were colored like candy corn. _Bloody hells, I’m going to die tonight_.

Jon took up two, then moved his lips down toward her ear, facing away from watchful eyes, but making her shiver when his beard gently scratched at her skin. She really was going to die tonight, though she hoped it wasn’t from alcohol poisoning. “Don’t drink if you think you’ll be sick. Let me catch up to you.”

Maybe it was the booze, or mayhaps the sweet, caring undertone in his voice, but either way, her eyes sought him out just as he was pulling away, their faces so close for a beat she had almost expected he planned on kissing her. Instead, he smiled and straightened, forcing air deep into her lungs as he downed both shots with ease. Absorbing the way his tongue circled the little glass cup was not helping her desire in the slightest.

The entryway door slammed open just as Dany was politely declining any more drinks from the random guest, silencing all voices and yelling over the speakers. Dany went cold at the sight of her ex walking in, two other guys she did not recognize flanking his sides. His smug smirk and stupid hairstyle made her nauseas, and she frantically leaned across Jon to question Marge with her eyes. Her friend only violently shook her head and shrugged, silently assuring Dany that she had not invited him.

Daario came up to the edge of the crowd, and she was only vaguely aware of Jon asking what was going on. “Oh, look. It’s the little town slut,” Daario slurred, thrusting a wobbly finger straight at Dany.

She swallowed thickly, feeling hot tears gathering behind her eyes as the entire household turned her into a spectator sport. Before she could think to say anything, or even move, Grey descended on him, and then Jon was as well.

“Jon,” she called weakly, but if he heard her, he didn’t stop until he and Grey were face-to-face with Daario.

Marge came over and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “I promise I didn’t invite him. He probably just remembered this is our tradition.”

Dany could only nod, watching with worrisome eyes as the guys exchanged harsh words.

“You can fuck right out of here,” Jon started.

Daario nodded condescendingly, his thin, pompous grin spreading ear to ear, puffing out his chest. Jon didn’t flinch, and Grey looked ready to murder the man. “What, are you fucking her, too? Get in line, buddy. She’s made the rounds-”

A nasty crunching sound filled the room, and Dany only then realized the music had been turned off, gasping with wide, damp eyes as she threw her hands over her mouth. Daario was flung backwards by the force, consequently hitting the opposite wall with his shoulder, and then Grey and a couple of other people were on Daario’s two henchman that had tagged along with him.

Dany buried her face in her hands, peeking through her fingers. 

“Should I call the police?” Marge wondered aloud, unusually calm for the brawl that was breaking out on her living room floor. Spectators who did not wish to participate simply egged on their friends.

Daario shot up and threw himself forward; he and Jon continued to throw fists, heads ducking and bodies swerving until Jon got hooked on his mouth and then raised the beer bottle she didn’t notice he had been holding, making Dany shriek. “Yes! Yes, call the police, Marge! He’s going to kill someone!”

Several people shouted and screamed for Daario to back down, and someone managed to snatch the bottle from Daario before he could strike it over Jon’s head, resulting in him, ultimately, being carried away outside with his two buddies. Dany’s heart was thrumming so rapidly it was making her lightheaded, and she felt as though she had sobered up in the exhilaration.

Once Daario was far, far away, Dany hopped off the raised flooring, Marge in the background giving the police her address and explaining the situation. She found Jon where he had slithered away to the kitchen, nursing a split lip under the tap water.

Dany reached trembling hands to him, turning him so she could see him properly. “Oh, my gods, are you okay?” She breathed, inspecting his face for further damage, but aside from droplets of blood staining the neck of his costume, it seemed Daario lost out on this one, just as he always did.

To her surprise, he grinned, wincing when it stretched the wound, making blood trickle down his chin. “Never better. Basically a paper cut.” His thumb was suddenly grazing across her cheek where it had been dampened by tears she’d forgotten had shed, her breath shuddering. His brows slanted. “You?”

She nodded, a tiny jerk of her head.

“That guy is out of his mind.”

“Yeah, I know, I dated him,” she said with a humorless laugh, reaching over to fold a paper towel and wet it with cold water, switching off the tap and gently dabbing the cut, letting the towel absorb as much of the blood as it could.

She was so focused on her task, trying to at least slow the bleeding, she hadn’t noticed how intensely he was watching her. His eyes were both soft and almost black in equal measure, making her breath hitch in the back of her throat. “Do you wanna get out of here?” He asked, his voice low and raspy, maybe even tired.

Her lips tugged into an easy smile, nodding in her daze. “Yeah.”

Jon lifted his hand and took the towel, tossing it into the garbage can before he slid his hand into hers and lead her toward the door. She moved slightly numbly, though when she saw Grey stationed in the threshold as sirens could be heard a short distance away, she paused to pull him into a hug. Grey squeezed her and kissed her temple. “Thank you,” she said, and he gave her a firm nod.

Missi replaced him and kissed her cheek, pulling away so that only Dany could see her eyes widen and flicker over to Jon and back. Dany mouthed _I’ll text you later_ and let herself be taken out of the stuffy house. Daario was slumped over in the grass with his friends, a number of party-goers standing guard to make sure he did no more harm.

Jon moved her to his other side, blocking Daario from her view as they stepped onto the sidewalk. He never let go of her hand, and she was grateful for at least some warmth since it had cooled considerably since she had last been outside. They walked silently for an unknown amount of time, and she was grateful for the comfort of it so that she could ease her nerves.

And she didn't know where in all the seven hells her courage came from, nor this deep-seeded idea that she could trust this man that so-willingly, unquestioningly put himself between her and someone potentially very dangerous. But maybe it was just that: Jon Snow was either a man of honor - an ironic reflection of the character he chose to represent tonight - or he was very, _very_ good at playing games.

But her gut, which generally pointed her in the right direction, did not attest to such presumptions.

"He, um…," she slightly cleared her throat, her voice edging on hoarse, keeping her eyes fixed to the cement squares below them. From the corner of her eye, she had Jon's full, unwavering attention. "When we were dating, Daario...he cheated on me. I didn't know for a good half year."

"You don't need to tell me if you don't want to," Jon said, his thumb running circles over the top of her hand grounding her.

"It's alright," she affirmed, and she meant it. "That was only the tip of the iceberg. He'd taken photos of me...I usually consider myself a very aware person, and yet I had no idea how he managed to take them without tipping me off. Changing clothes, stepping out of the shower, and when we were intimate together."

"Fuck. I'm sorry," Jon replied earnestly, tossing a look over his shoulder. "I wouldn't mind breaking his nose a few more times, maybe knock some sense into him."

Dany giggled and shook her head, tugging at him when he stalled, weighing the benefits. "I actually had a restraining order against him. This was the first time I've seen him in over a year."

They stumbled upon a small neighborhood that was decked out all along the street with Halloween decorations, the yards littered with various spooky creatures that were lit up and speaking and growling, skeletons plastered to the sides of the houses to make it appear as if they were scaling them to the upstairs windows. They slowed down to properly look at the displays; it was at least eight houses in a row, lit up so bright that Dany would bet you could see it from the sky.

She smiled, jumping when a plastic skeleton reached over the fence with a horrifying squeal. Jon laughed at her expense, squeezing her hand, her heart pounding. She felt her phone vibrate in the waistband of her leggings where she'd stuck it, but she didn't feel up for leaving her present state. Not yet.

They came to a gradual stop once they reached the last house that participated in the exquisite display. Jon turned to her, fingers scratching at his beard. "This is mine," he tilted his head toward the home behind him. Dany craned her head around him, absorbing the craftsman style house that was a bit more tastefully decorated - not nearly as extreme in its lack of multiple supernatural creatures posted in the yard. Rather, like Christmas, the edges of the roof and siding were lined with orange string lights, the porch stairs symmetrically boating pumpkins, the bushes hung with purple. On the porch landing, there was a bench with two skeletons sitting atop it, set up to look as if they were holding hands.

There were a few more pieces posted around the yard, and Dany's face hurt from grinning so hard. "This is so cute. The skeletons are my favorite bit. Are you secretly a romantic?" She teased.

"Hardly," he deflected.

"Is this our destination? Or did you have somewhere else in mind?" She felt shy, now, standing there holding his hand against the harsh oranges illuminating them.

"It wasn't supposed to be, but I've just had an idea that might make this evening less shit," he declared, moving his eyes back to her curious ones. 

She raised her brows in question, an easy smile dancing on her lips. 

"I have a very hairy, but very cute attention-seeking roommate," he began, "a shit load of scary movies, and an endless supply of water. And ibuprofen. And popcorn."

Her dopey smile stretched wider with every passing word, his voice teetering on what she could only describe as cautiously hopeful. "I think that sounds perfect."

"Aye?" 

"Aye," she whispered, his eyes slowly dragging down her face and settling on her parted lips, threatening to send her spiraling into cardiac arrest. She could smell him suddenly, an array of woodsy and alcohol and a dash of cologne or shampoo. He had inched closer before she realized what was happening-

And then the spell was broken when a howl erupted behind him, his eyes closing with a huff of a laugh against her tingling face. "That would be my aforementioned roommate."

The night was still young, and they were about to enter his house. Presumably alone, at least in the sense of other humans. She declared, privately, that kissing was not only definitely on the menu, but would serve as a sumptuous appetizer, if not paving the way toward something more.

"Well, aren't you going to introduce me?" She swung their conjoined hands with a knowing look toward his front door.

He shuffled through his costume trousers, hands retrieving a set of keys before crossing down the path leading to the porch. "Fair warning...he'll try to kiss you."

"Hm," she hummed thoughtfully as he stuck the key into two locks, "wonder who he learned that from."

Jon made a noncommital scoff, pushing the door open and stepping in whilst holding back the most gorgeous dog she had ever seen. It fit the theme of the night, it seemed, very appropriately paired with, hands down no contest, the most beautiful man she'd ever met.

Dany brought her hands to her cheeks, her grin making her face ache, the large white beast flattening his ears and dancing in place as Jon asked him to sit and stay. Jon kept a finger pointed at him as he closed the door.

"Ah-ah," Jon tisked when his dog made to move, his body seemingly ready to implode with excitement. Dany watched, bemused, as Jon then snapped his fingers and then the dog was circling her, tail swishing violently while he inspected her.

She dropped down into a squat, allowing him to further investigate her, his nose nudging at the wig and gliding wetly against her neck, tickling her. "Such a beautiful boy, aren't you?"

_Taking after your papa._

"He's very neglected," Jon said in jest, hooking his keys up on the wall.

"And rightly so, huh?" She hummed when she seemed to have found a particularly sensitive area at the side of his neck, below his ear, forcing him into a sitting position with his rear foot scratching in tandem to her fingers.

"Alright. Think fast: favorite Halloween pastime," Jon said, slowly backing his eay down a shallow hallway.

Dany scrunched up her face, landing on the first thing that came to mind. "Whenever the weather was too bad, or we were too sick for trick or treating, my mum would set up a blanket fort with a bed inside to make us feel a bit better."

"Stay right there. No straying beyond this room," he thrust a finger in her direction, disappearing around the corner.

Dany shared a puzzled look with the furry white face sitting properly before her, tail thumping against the wood floor when she spoke to him, whispering conspiratorially. "What do you think he's up to?"

It was several long minutes that passed, her ears straining amid the various sounds of footsteps, a refrigerator door, and numerous other things she couldn't place. By the time Jon had returned, she had shifted to sit against the wall, careful not to stir a certain spoiled pup that had fallen fast asleep with his head in her lap.

She looked up to discover Aragorn had been put to rest, leaving Jon in clear-frame glasses, hair slightly askew, a plain white t-shirt that slightly stretched across a broad, muscular chest, and an even clearer one of his detectable biceps. The attachment to said bicep was extending a small pile of clothes down to her. "Might be a bit big on you, but…"

Smiling gratefully, she gently began to stand as Ghost grumbled and reluctantly removed himself from his warm bed. She took them and thanked him, and while he showed her where his bathroom was, he instructed her to close her eyes so that she couldn't yet see what he'd planned in the room diagonal. She did as bid, trusting the guidance of his hands on her shoulders to not let her run into any walls or stub her toes.

In the confines of the modestly sized bathroom, she let the warmth of the space thaw her, careful to undress so as to not tear the thin material. She plucked off the wig and crown, flipping her head upside down to fluff up her hair so it wasn’t laying so flat against her skull, finger-combing it, then catching herself in the mirror. All she was left in was her bra, panties, and the necklace Jon had given her, which she decided to keep on. “What the fuck are you doing, Dany?”

What if she was overestimating things? Maybe Jon Snow was simply just a very polite, humble man, who strictly wished to better her night and nothing more. Yet, that wasn’t entirely the vibe she’d gathered from him - it was a large chunk of it, but the way in which he regarded her, sometimes bashful and other times downright feral, his body language that so often leaned into her, or near her, not pulling away when they touched....and the kitchen back at Missandei’s, on the sidewalk just outside of his home…

Closing her eyes, she drew in a deep breath through her nose for a few seconds, then let it sift through her mouth, parting open her eyes to contemplate her reflection. Jon was not Daario. It had been so long since she’d even been with that narcissistic, abusive asshole, and yet now she was convincing herself that his ghost of a memory had any authority over any future, potential relationships. Not that this was what that was - not necessarily. The vague hope was there. And the worst thing that could happen was that she could relish in a very, very stupidly handsome man treating her to above-and-beyond measures because of her shitty ex-boyfriend decided to crash their mutual friends’ party, and humiliate her in the process.

She decided, then, as the smell of buttery popcorn wafted under the crack of the door and up her nostrils, two things: Jon Snow was not Daario Naharis - not even comparably so. And second, she was only experiencing this sudden panic because Daario had made such an abrupt, unexpected appearance that it, momentarily, made her awful time with him hit her like a ton of bricks.

She shook it off and unfolded the clothes Jon had lent her; a plain white t-shirt, and black jogger sweatpants, which was identical to his own save for the color difference in the pants. Pulling them on, she tied the side hem of the shirt with the spare hair tie she had on her wrist, securing it there so it didn’t drown her as much, and rolling up the ankles to the pants.

After she draped her costume and accessories onto the bathroom hook, she exited the bathroom, barely able to even look up when she gasped as two hands came up to shield her eyes, making Jon chuckle behind her. “That is _not_ a good surprise to pull on Halloween, Jon Snow.”

Regardless, he walked them forward, a stupid grin spreading over her face ear-to-ear, her other senses jumping into overdrive and ultimately igniting her nerves each time his chest bumped her back, or his thigh nudged her ass in their half-stumbling attempt to not hurt themselves.

“Are you drunk, or are your eyes closed, too?” She needled when he nearly tripped over something, swearing under his breath.

Jon snorted. “Neither. Ghost is trying to figure out what the fuck we’re doing. Okay…,” he brought them to a stop, “open.”

She did, and immediately declared, in her mind, that it was by far the most romantic thing anyone had ever done for her. Whether he had meant for that to be the case or not, her heart swelled anyway, her eyes even stinging. Several blankets were drawn up to a point and draped over several tall chairs, white bulbous string lights bordering the edges of the fort’s entryway as if meant to mimic a miniature theatre. There were a few layers of blankets and quilts on the floor inside, the loveseat tucked away inside as well, and an assortment of pillows squaring off the floor arrangement. From here, she could see the faint blue glow of the television set back near the wall. Off in the corner of the room, a good distance away from becoming a fire hazard, was a small fireplace ablaze.

“This is...hands down the best Halloween. Ever,” she avowed, turning on her heels to face him and subsequently brushing against his front, he was so close. She heard his breath stutter, dropping her voice to barely a whisper. “Thank you. For everything you did tonight.”

Only faintly did his head dip an inch, his eyes surveying her between her eyes and her lips, as if asking for silent permission, but he spoke first, his face sober. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, his dark brow wrinkling just so. She smiled, faintly, a twitch, before she lifted onto her toes and pushed her lips against his, his arm instantly slinking around her back to keep her there. The soft, plushness of his lips and the light scratch of his beard made her gasp through her nose, lifting her hands to settle against his hard chest, his mouth slanting over hers as his tongue smoothed with torturous patience that had her pressing her thighs together. She opened for him, moaning faintly as his silken tongue explored her mouth, her own mirroring in his. His other hand’s fingers smoothed over her jaw, so feather-light as if he thought she might shatter, but holding her there so he could take his time in the hot cavern of her mouth.

A large, furry, insistent dog head butted between their legs, ultimately forcing them apart for air and to afford their intruder whatever it was that he so required with his very, very unfortunate timing. The pair of them burst into laughter, Ghost’s wider-than-usual red eyes peering up at them, right in the center so that they could not avoid him.

“I told you he was attention-seeking,” Jon noted, his voice raspy, only serving to propel her desire to have him at some capacity again.

“I just think he fancies me,” she stated, reaching down to muss up his fur.

Jon grunted, forcing her to straighten with a haughty brow lifted. “What? Is someone jealous?”

Ghost seemed pleased by his part, walking away to settle in his own bed. Jon, however, clamped his bottom lip between his teeth, nothing but trouble written all over his face. He fisted her shirt and tugged her closer, igniting a yelp from her when she crashed against him, his mouth smothering hers, her cheek, her jaw, down the length of her neck until she could hardly breathe from laughing so laboriously. Her hands clutched his shoulders as he backed toward their fort - they came here to _watch a movie_ \- constantly pecking kisses to her lips, like an addiction.

She pushed at his chest, stepping around to swat his ass once they came upon the triangular entryway. His very firm, deliciously round ass, the shape of which she had just noticed was barely concealed by his sweatpants. “You first.”

“You just want to look at my ass. Bloody pervert,” he accused, dropping to his knees to crawl in. Naturally, she was on his heels, her eyes glued to that very shapely thing.

“I don’t know what you mean,” she feigned, sighing.

“Filthy liar,” he said, shifting into a sitting position once they were inside. “Here’s our choices,” he handed her a thick booklet of discs.

As it was a mighty impressive collection, and she felt spoiled enough, she had an idea. “Close your eyes and give me your hand.”

Opening the book, she flipped it to a random sleeve without looking herself, circling his index finger and setting it down on one by random selection. In unison, they looked down. Dany groaned. _Child’s Play_. “My brother forced me to watch this when I was way too young, and it haunted my dreams for months after.”

“Pick another,” Jon suggested.

Dany shook her head, resolute. "No, this gives me an excuse to make you hold me."

He smirked, eyes never leaving hers as he slid the disc free, crawling over to the blu-ray player to get it started. Dany claimed the couch, laying on her side and leaving space for him behind her. Once he got the opening credits rolling, he sidled in, using his one arm as a pillow, the other snaking around her waist, his jaw tucking into the curvature where her neck met her shoulder.

For the longest time, even with her eyes fixed on the screen, her mind was reeling at the feel of his body molded against hers. The calm, rhythmic rise and fall of his chest, the warm puffs of air on her cheek, so contradictory to her consistently thrumming heart. His fingers were steadily stroking her belly where they rested in place.

And then she felt something undeniably hard pressed against the cleft of her ass. She didn’t need to wonder if he was thinking what she had been thinking. The movie quickly was the very last thing on her mind, not that she was complaining one way or the other, and it was heavily evident that the feeling was mutual.

She covered his hand with hers, his fingers stilling, and slid it down below the waistband of her borrowed sweatpants, her breaths already evolving into silent, small pants, his mouth dropping to kiss the sliver of exposed skin where the collar of shirt opened with a gap.

“Thank fuck,” he breathed, making her giggle, and once he eagerly moved on his own, she withdrew her hand, a heady moan coursing from her throat when his hand cuffed over her mound. His nimble fingers slid beneath the fabric of her panties, and she didn’t realize how wet she was until his fingers moved over her seam, gathering her juices, her hips jerking and grinding against his clothed cock behind her.

His teeth nipped at her skin, making her gasp, her lips falling open and eyes slamming shut as he circled her clit with the blunt, roughened pads of his fingers, which provided even more delicious friction. Her left hand reached around, fumbling for the waist of his pants, and she needn’t explore far before the hot, silky length of him met her hand.

He growled into her neck, her cunt squeezing with want and all the air around her collecting in her lungs as he worked her up. She gripped him and squeezed, his hips undulating against the pressure, and sliding within her grip.

“Oh _, gods_ ,” she whined as he sunk a finger into her needy channel, something that had not been loved on by another in ages. His hips rolled in her grip, mirroring the pace he set inside of her, adding a second digit while his thumb tapped her clit.

It wasn’t enough. She needed more of him, so she rolled her upper body and palmed the back of his head, sloppily devouring his mouth with slick tongues and clashing teeth. Torturously, he slowed, her thighs trembling against his control, his slick fingers retracting and sliding up her seam until they just teased her bud, her legs falling open with a wild gasp that would have had her slightly embarrassed if he wasn’t also rutting and grunting against her.

Then, in a flash, the warmth of him disappeared, her eyes widening until he was at her feet, his glasses set aside, yanking off her pants and panties in one easy pull, his eyes blown to pitch as he took a moment to study her bare before him. She clamped her teeth onto her bottom lip, her face hot and clammy under his wolfish gaze, and all worry dissolving when he placed his sinful mouth over her cunt, suckling and lapping with his tongue.

It was far, far better than what she had even hoped to imagine when she saw what he could do to a jell-o shot.

Her hand fell to grasp at his curls, trying to be mindful in her lustful haze not to pull too hard, her nails scraping at his scalp and slowly grinding against his face. He groaned then, strong hands keeping her thighs from closing in too narrow, the sound reverberating against her entrance as his stiffened tongue plunged within her heat.

She'd forgotten many things then: how to breathe, how to think straight, or that she had wanted to pull him up so he could replace his perfect mouth with his cock. All it took was for his thumb to rub against her clit once more, and then her back arched off the couch, her skin dewy, her brows drawn to sharp points as she cried out his name, again and again.

Starbursts popped behind her eyes, her chest heaving as her quivering body slumped. The dip in the cushion below her was the only thing that forced her to return to the living. At some point, either Jon or their desperately moving bodies had found the TV remote and switched the device off, which was probably for the better in terms of background noise. Not the most romantic film.

A dopey smile crept across her face as she worked to regain her breathing, bringing into view Jon hovering and admiring her from above.

"Hi," she said, her voice barely audible.

"Hi," he returned, sweeping away some of her stray hairs with his hand.

With a coy smirk, Dany brought up her feet and hooked her toes into his pants, pushing them down as far as her legs would allow until he took over. She swallowed, watching with eager, starving eyes as he removed his shirt, revealing a body so obscenely beautiful and exquisite she felt that she could weep. She decided that he should never, ever wear clothes ever again. Ever.

His boxer briefs followed his pants to the floor, his engorged, thick flushed cock sprung forward, her lip practically skewered by her teeth. This man was a fucking wet dream in physical form, her cunt already pulsing, but she had other plans. Plans that she would not - _could_ not - draw out. 

He descended on her, plundering her mouth with his tongue, his hand roving down the length of her thigh and snaking under her shirt. Her body ached for him, back bowing off the couch. She kissed him deeper, almost desperate as she sat up. His arms wrapped around her under her shirt, the warmth of him enveloping her making her shiver. His beard scratched her skin deliciously, his mouth angling over hers to claim more of her. His fingers tickled her skin, wrapping them around the edge of her shirt and tugging up until she was left in nothing but a soft grey bra.

Almost sheepishly, their breaths mingling and eyes never leaving the others, Dany used her hands to turn him so his back was pressed against the back of the couch, swinging her leg over his hip as his fingers made quick work of removing her bra.

She remained hovered just over his cock, his eyes hooded, irises fully dilated to a point that only a thin ring of brownish-grey remained. He absorbed her, tracking his eyes appraisingly over the length of her body, his hands having found a resting place at her hips. Somehow, though she could feel the heat rolling off of him, she found some scrap of strength to not just take him in hand and sink herself onto him.

He smoothed his splayed hands up her sides, her nipples already furled into tight, sensitive peaks. He palmed each breast with a tenderness that made her whimper, eyes slamming shut as his thumbs brushed across each nipple, and then releasing a sharp gasp when his mouth closed over the first one.

Her arms flew up to cradle his head, holding him lightly right where he was, her head rolling to the side. She was quickly dissolving into a quivering mess, her cunt far too empty and aching as she glided her slick heat down the length of his cock, relishing in the chest-deep growl that ripped from his chest, fingers curling and digging into her skin where he was holding her around her middle.

She fed his wanton noises with more pressure, rotating her head to bury her face in his hair, grinding as his hips began to rise to slide through her juices, driving her to the brink of delirium as he somehow was able to keep focused on feasting on her other breast until they were raw and straining for him.

Jon's deep grunts and hands lowering to push down on her hips paused, a pathetic whimper escaping between her lips. "Dany," he whispered, though it sounded more of a heady plea with how winded he was. She sat back, his head dropping back so he could see her, but she already knew what he was going to ask before his swollen, damp lips moved to ask them.

She dropped a hand, thumb caressing over his full bottom lip. "I'm on the pill. And the last person I was with, whose name I don't want to ruin the mood with, was a couple years ago. All my testing came back clean."

Naturally as Daario had been screwing around with other women, she took every precaution to ensure he didn't further taint her.

A soft, lazy smile tugged the corners of his lips with a small nod. "Same," he rasped, idle hands toying with her well-attended breasts once more.

She dipped her head as he lifted his, meeting somewhere in the middle as their kisses turned slow and controlled, tongues dancing and further leaving no area neglected. She felt Jon's hips move again, and she lifted onto her knees as he gave his cock a few strokes and pressed it to her entrance. Her mouth fell open, sheathing around the first few inches, moaning at how satisfyingly he stretched her, filled her.

A cold sweat bloomed over her heated skin, Jon expelling a heavy breath where his mouth had settled against her shoulder. "You okay?" He practically bit out, his hands soothingly trailing the length of her back, over her ass.

Her nod was shallow, jerky movements as she adjusted to him, until she was warm and pliable. It was burning just a little bit, but once they began to move again, it would ease. "Yes. You?"

He pressed a kiss to her shoulder, then her collar bone, nudging aside the pendant and dropping one between her breasts, her cunt squeezing around his thick length and making him groan against her sternum. "Fuck. Yes."

Dany curled her fingers through his hair, clinging to him as he cradled her close and flush against him, and leisurely began to roll his hips. He was so gentle and mindful with every movement that if she wasn't in such a euphoric state, matching his rhythm and pulling him deeper, she may have shed a few tears.

His right arm was hooked around her hips, his other prodding her face back so he could see her. Dany pressed her forehead against his damp one, their eyes locked and refusing to close, her hands raising to brace over his shoulders. The muscles there strained and stretched. Together, they moved, easing Jon's cock until he was buried to the hilt, tipping his face up to mouth at her.

"You're so fucking warm," he murmured against her lips, breathless, nibbling her.

All she could was hum in return, currently unable to formulate any sensical words in her short-circuited brain. His entire body moved, his strong hold never faltering as he moved them down to the blanket-ridden floor, never separating as his hand helped lower her head. His thumb traced over her cheekbone, his eyes reflecting the lights strewn within the fort and mimicking a map of stars against an incoming thunderstorm.

She opened her legs further for him, his hands assisting her the extra mile by hiking them over his shoulders. Dany licked her lips as he stood to his knees.

Absolutely zero of her fantasies that ever included Viggo Mortensen could never compare. It wasn't even a fair competition.

Her hands fisted the sheets at her side, allowing her eyes to drink in the sight of him, even the sight of _her_ , his riot of curls atop and surrounding his head, the sheen of sweat on his forehead and chest and swollen abs, his beautiful fucking sculpted body in general, how he appeared just as on the brink of bursting when they'd only just begun.

Her eyes rolled to a close when he ran his thumb through her juices where they were joined and began circling her clit, his hips pulling back and sinking into her with a slap. With every push, each satisfying thrust and growl tearing from his lungs and throat, she was being pushed to a very steep edge.

_Seven fucking hells. This will be my death and I'd happily accept it._

His free hand was everywhere that he could reach, sliding down the length of her leg, lightly scraping at her stomach, then practically bent her in half so that he could kiss her. The sounds they made together were lewd and wet and unapologetic, her ankles wrapping around his back and using him as leverage to swivel her hips up, his movements both erratic and punishing as he split her open. Their heady moans and burning lungs filled the room, swallowing each other whole between nips and licks and sucks.

And just like that, his cock pistoning against her womb, she crested over, crying into Jon's mouth as he buried himself inside of her and let his head fall against her chest, their sobs echoing each other. She could feel his warm seed fill her, rolling her hips lazily for several seconds while their bodies recovered. Half conscious, Dany looped her arms around his shoulders and pulled him down to nestle on top of her, his weight against her making her hum contentedly.

"You were right," he mumbled groggily, lifting his head to rest his chin on her chest.

"Hmm?" She adjusted her head so she could see him, her eyelids feeling as though they weighed a thousand tons, a sleepy smile on her loved-on lips.

His hand lifted to sweep away some hair from her face. "Best Halloween ever."

Her brows lifted and after he slipped out of her, a warm trickle gliding down her thighs, he used his elbows to shimmy up her body and kiss her sweetly. "We should've stayed in costume," she teased, fingers carding through his hair.

"Tolkien would roll in his grave," he smirked.

"You can't convince me Aragorn and Arwen didn't fuck each other into the ground. No matter how much Tolkien avoided such descriptive activities."

"Naughty girl," he chided, kissing her again, sucking her lip between his teeth. He wrapped her up in his arms and rolled them on their sides, a waft of cool air skating over her skin as he momentarily sat up to pull a blanket up to their waists.

“So,” she said, her fingers running over the coarse hairs of his beard, each passing second making her cheeks flare with heat, “I get the feeling that you’ve rendered my legs completely useless.”

Inching closer, Jon tangled said legs together, brows jumping. “It’s still early yet,” he declared, drawing feather-light shapes over her hip, her skin erupting in gooseflesh, “and tomorrow is Sunday.”

Her body, she didn’t think, had an ounce of energy leftover, yet she could feel it reacting to his words. “You have an awful lot of stamina for a history teacher,” she grinned.

Fingers lightly pinched her skin. “A requirement for managing a classroom full of twenty eight-year-olds.”

_And he’s good with kids, too?_ Dany groaned, rolling onto her back and laying her hand over her eyes. She was fucked. She didn’t even know what this was, what it might turn into if anything other than just one night, but either way...

Jon followed, his hand roving over her and cupping her exposed right breast, lips and beard attending the other, making her squeal - everything was so damn oversensitive now. He had done a number on her. “What did I say?” He asked against her skin, rolling over her and settling his thigh between her legs, eyeing her suspiciously and removing her hand with a suspicious glint in his eye.

Pressing her lips together to bite back a grin, she shook her head. “I just wish there was something about you I didn’t like,” she let out a small laugh.

Head bobbing left to right in thought, his eyes roamed their small quarters a moment before landing on her again. “Maybe if you stick around long enough you’ll find something.”

His face sobered slightly, his dark brows lifting just a hair, her head tilting slightly with narrowed eyes. _Hopeful_. That’s what it was, lying behind the curtain of grey. Her voice was quiet as she spoke, though her heart was beating like mad. “Jon Snow, are you trying to ask me something?”

An easy smile tugged on his lips, soulful eyes peering into hers. “Maybe. If…,” he sucked in a breath, and she found it adorably humbling that he seemed unable to be so direct. Even as they lay there in a naked, tangled mess of limbs, a result of their inability to watch more than twenty minutes of a scary movie without gobbling each other up. The space between his brows wrinkled a bit, and even his cheeks were brushed pink. “If that’s something you might be interested in. I don’t, uh...usually do this. And let it be _just_ this. Does that make sense?”

He was nervous, she realized halfway through his affirmation, as he continued to astound her further. She placed her hands on either side of his face, raising her head to close the space between them, pressing her lips to his. “Yes. And you might be surprised to find that I’m a little bit _more_ than interested. But only a little bit,” she quipped playfully.

A small breath of relief puffed against her face. “Aye?”

She nodded, grinning so hard it hurt her face. “Aye.”

* * *

If Dany thought she was sore, exhausted, and downright useless after their first round…

Jon’s bed only served to multiply that by four.

And the only reason she forced herself to move from the very position she fell asleep in was because a warm, soft weight plopped down over her feet. Blinking open her eyes, she was grateful that the room wasn’t doused in the morning sunlight, but instead thrown in shade with light-blocking curtains. Vaguely, she heard the sound of shower water switching off, curling down so she could reach Ghost and give him the much-deserved pets he was neglected from last night.

After Jon had her once more time in the fort, ‘ _for practice_ ’, he claimed, they had finally gotten to the heaping bowl of popcorn he had made hours earlier, and rehydrated with water and a small dose of ibuprofen to ward off any impending headaches.

Then, he had swept her off of her feet and carried her up the stairs, only making it to the hallway wall before turning her into a quivering, sweaty mess once more. Ghost had tried to follow them into the bedroom, where they were destined to sleep, but when Dany was reminded about how he checked every single box _and_ more in the running for _perfect boyfriend material_ , she decided that she needed to show him how much she appreciated him. The poor dog had been banished from the room until their bodies decided they needed to rejuvenate if they wanted to wake up the next morning somewhat alive.

Ghost bundled up into a white ball, his eyes squeezed tight as she watched her fingers disappear in his double coat. The sound of Jon’s bathroom door opening had her rolling onto her back, watching as Jon approached her, towel-drying his hair, his glasses back on his nose, and much to her chagrin, was only wrapped in a towel. Which hung low at his waist.

He leaned his hands at either side of her head with a warm smile, dropping a mint-flavored kiss to her mouth. “Morning.”

“Morning,” she replied groggily, looking him over. “I’m going to need you to put some clothes on. My body needs to take a sabbatical from you.”

He chuckled, pushing off the bed and walking off to sift through his dresser. The towel dropped, and she slapped her hand over her mouth as she yelped into a giggle, an obvious bite mark pink on one round, pale, peachy ass cheek. As he pulled on some boxer briefs, he looked over his shoulder at her, with a good-natured scowl. “You’re not the only one who won’t be sitting comfortably for a few days.”

Dany tossed a pillow at him, though it landed sadly several feet away from him, making him grin as he pulled on black skinny jeans and a matching cotton sweater. She sat up, holding the sheet to her chest as she continued raking her fingers down Ghost’s back. A soft finger tracing a spot over her neck made her cringe against the tickle, turning her head as it was replaced by a kiss. “Sorry. Probably gonna need to wear a scarf at the office for a bit.”

Ah, yes, she remembered now, during their grand finale when she had ridden him with every last remnant of energy she’d had, driving them both to a feverish climax, and he had latched onto her neck with desperate need. “Don’t be sorry,” she said softly, tilting her head up to look for him.

He sat behind her, pressing warm kisses down the length of her spine and sliding a hand to her waist. Leaning against him, she rested her head against his shoulder, sighing, and overall fighting to keep herself from drifting again. “You wanna stay in bed all day? I don’t think Ghost would mind the company.”

“Mm,” she shook her head, coincidentally yawning at the thought of it. She couldn’t remember the last time she had a full day off of just doing nothing, let alone sleeping it away, her face usually buried in her laptop editing away for work. “As lovely as that sounds, I have to play catch-up,” she grumbled, full-on pouting when she thought about how much she would rather steal Jon Snow for the entire day and do absolutely nothing.

He rested his cheek against her head. “Me, too. Ironically, grading papers about what makes them the most scared. It was meant to be a Halloween prompt to take a break from Westerosi geography, but I’ve a feeling it’s going to be...interesting.”

She smiled, turning her face up to see him, his brow drawn in thought. “Do you realize how sweet you are?”

He dipped his head down, nudging her nose with his, grunting defiantly, because he was far too humble a man to accept such compliments.

For a little while longer, they lay snuggled up on his bed, until Dany made the ultimate decision for them to both get started with their day, as reluctant as they both were to do so. For the past more than twelve hours, they’d known nothing but the attentions and comfort of one another, and suddenly being thrust out of their little bubble was jarring. It shouldn’t have been, since Dany never felt that sort of pull with anyone before, even when her longest lasting boyfriend had been relatively longterm at four years. When it ended, life snapped back to normal, as if it never happened.

Now, as she pulled on her leggings from the night before and snatching up Jon’s shirt to borrow, she did it without any semblance of haste, taking her sweet time brushing out her tangled hair and brushing her teeth.

Jon drove her the ten minutes it took to get to her place, and though they agreed that their temporary goodbye would be quick, it turned into a full-on, languid makeout session in his car. They exchanged phone numbers, Dany mentally noting that her text inbox was twelve messages long, giving Jon one more, _final_ kiss before she practically threw herself out of his car.

He waited to be sure that she got in her house safely - at least, that’s what he yelled at her through the window, though she could almost see his mind working overtime on whether or not he wanted to follow her in. Grinning wildly, she stepped inside and waved him goodbye, watching his car disappear before closing her door.

Exhaling a long breath, she stood there for what felt like several minutes, her legs bringing her upstairs to her home office. She moved on autopilot - switching her laptop on, gathering paperwork separated in manila folders, pens of various colors across her desk. She had just sat down when her phone buzzed, pulling it out to maybe finally address what she assumed was Missandei harassing her for details.

She giggled when Jon’s name floated across her screen, shaking her head.

_Jon: Miss you. My bruised ass does, too._

Tossing her head back, a girlish grin sprawling over her lips, her fingers hovered over her screen. She supposed they were both past the point of desperation, so nothing she said could really humiliate her.

_Dany: Miss you, too, and your bruised ass. I promise to kiss it better...say, tomorrow after 4:30? My place?_

Setting her phone aside, she clicked open a few documents, her eyes reading the same paragraph at least twice with little comprehension, fingers fiddling with the Evenstar necklace that Jon insisted she keep. Her hand scooped up her phone at a mortifying rate of speed when she got Jon’s response back.

_Jon: See you in sixteen hours. :)_

_Dany: ...and thirty-two minutes._

_Jon: Aye?_

_Dany: Aye. ;)_

  
  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't expect to be adding another chapter so soon, but here we are! Hope you enjoy these two dorks as we get to know them even better.

“Ms. Targaryen? Are you still with us?”

Her supervisor, Tyrion Lannister, was the last voice she wanted to hear in her stupor, wherein she may have been spending half of their office meeting picturing Jon spreading her out over the conference room table.

Or her office chair, possibly even her desk. She wasn’t picky.

Not very acceptable as the editor-in-chief, whose input was being sought regarding some very vital creative direction for Valyria Publishing Group.

This was what Jon reduced her to. It was all, entirely his fault.

Blinking, she shuffled in her seat, pressing her thighs tightly together in the confines of her pencil skirt, brows lifting as she forced her attention to him. She was hyper aware of the twelve other pairs of eyes burning through her skull. Clearing her throat, she gave a resolute nod. “Yes. Sorry, I haven’t been sleeping well lately.”

Regretfully, she let her eyes drift over to Margaery and Missi, both of whom were fighting to either a.) laugh their asses off, or b.) make a lewd comment relating to her questionable excuse. Tyrion bought into it, however, none the wiser as he continued to prattle on.

Because, yes, when her and Jon did manage to sync up their schedules just right, typically on the weekends, sleep was pretty much out of the question. And, yes, he may or may not have fulfilled her top-most fantasy the day after Halloween, re-dressing as Aragorn, and her as Arwen, and fucking her into her bed, a la their previous night’s conversation. It had been a casual, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it comment on her part, when he had texted her that he was finishing up grading for the day, and boy, did Jon Snow deliver.

And again, her nosey neighbors were probably about ready to get her tossed out of their neighborhood for neglecting the noise ordinance. She was confident that they kept the entire town awake, truthfully, but also not regrettably.

It was both infinitely more satisfying and erotic than her younger self ever drew up in her mind, and Viggo Mortensen was instantly displaced. She wasn’t even mad about it.

It had been a month since the Halloween party, one glorious and blissful month. Sometimes she wondered how pathetic she must appear to her immediate circle of friends she interacted with on the daily. Like a hormonal, distracted young teenager who just discovered her interest in men, sex, and the art of trying to not get demoted because she could not get enough of thinking about Jon Snow.

It didn’t help that he, far and away, still continued to champion the high honor of _Perfect Boyfriend_ and _Perfect Human_ . He was the sweetest, most kindful, beautifully-hearted man, whose interests aligned with hers so well, she often found herself pinching her skin to ensure she was not trapped in some fever dream where she had made him up. His loyalties were quite exquisite when it came down to best romantic films, and she was pleasantly surprised to learn that he did not try to puff up his chest and turn up his nose at sharing that he could dig a good romance.

Except, his all-time favorite was Moulin Rouge. Which, in itself, was not really an issue. It was an absolutely brilliant piece of art, if not a bit unusual, and she loved it the _one_ time she saw it, but vowed to never again put herself through that level of deep despair after falling so hard for the characters ever again. That’s what made it so amazing, she supposed, was how long it stayed with her after. And, it only served to skyrocket Jon’s attractiveness, because she couldn’t name one man she ever knew that would ever admit to adoring a musical so much, of all things.

But with that said, her favorite romance film was, easily, Pride and Prejudice. It was satisfying from start to finish, and concluded with a happy ending. And Jon had yet to see it - which was historical, because he was the only person that was neck-and-neck with her in the number of titles consumed over her twenty-eight years. She as only a fraction disappointed that, as a history teacher, he missed this particular period piece, but it mattered not. She would force it on him soon enough.

Another benefit to dating Jon Snow? That he looked like a whole ass meal in his button-down shirts and fitted trousers after school hours, with his stupid loosened tie and the first couple buttons of his shirt undone when they found a scrap of time to meet up on the weekdays after work hours. He always made a point to call her on the days they were too overworked, which was sadly becoming too frequent for both of them now, and although she could hear the exhaustion in his voice, he loved ‘his kids’ - as he so affectionately called his third-graders - and adored his job. It only fueled the feelings that she was steadily, uncontrollably growing some deep, deep feelings for him, at an alarming rate.

After another thirty minutes of the meeting, they were dismissed for the day. Dany checked the time on her phone, a few minutes before she could clock out for the weekend, before she was cornered in her office by Missi and Margaery’s twinkling eyes. Eyes narrowing, Dany dropped her binder and folders onto her desk, trying to read the pair of them before either spoke.

“So,” Marge drawled in a sultry voice, thin brows jumping suggestively. Missi looked positively delighted, but she hadn’t _not_ been since she had basically orchestrated her and Jon’s ultimate meeting. With the help of Grey, of course. “What was on your mind for a full _twenty minutes_ when the rest of us were thinking about numbers?”

Dany’s cheeks burned, trying to ward some of it off by arranging and rearranging her desk drawer, which was already pristine in its organization, because it’s what she found herself doing when she spaced out from her computer screen. “I’m just tired,” she lied, barely any effort put into convincing them otherwise, because of course they knew. They worked with her for eight-plus hours each day, for the last three years. Of course they could read her so well.

But that wasn’t the only reason why she was so blatantly removed. Jon’s birthday happened to be tonight, and she worried the gift she’d gotten him was a bit...much, for only dating a whopping month. It was more likely that she was overreacting; she was confident he would love it, but she also didn’t want to make him think that she expected him to match such a gesture, and she would never make such expectations.

She hoped it wasn’t too assuming, or stepping over any boundaries. Because she got to know him more, and they spent hours...upon hours...upon _hours_ these last few weeks communicating by every means possible, when they couldn’t be face-to-face, and they shared more of themselves to each other. He was raised by a single mother, which, she thought, explained in part how he became such an incredible man, but there were many opportunities he was not afforded as a child. Naturally, on one income, and in a different time where women were granted less positions of any semblance of power or wealth, money was a struggle. He vividly recalled a time, during the first Christmas after his father had up and left without so much as a note left behind, his mother, Lyanna, took out a loan just so that she could get some gifts under the tree for him.

It took her over a year to pay all four of them off.

But now, Lyanna was thriving, currently a businesswoman and proud fashion designer specifically for bridal gowns in London, her own boutique two hours from their ‘little’ town of Oxford. Dany was dying to meet her on that basis alone, and the way Jon talked about her, she knew she was a one of a kind supermom.

Dany’s gift, as it happened, was something that Jon had wanted for so, so long, but, well...due to many circumstances, he never could afford it, and then once he had put himself through school whilst working mostly night shifts as a bartender, adulthood struck. And priorities that came with that had him too busy for this very particular gift.

“We know,” her friends chirped in unison, reminding her that they were still there, watching expectantly, tearing her from her wandering thoughts.

Dany shook her head, willing away her probably fruitless fear, but suddenly realizing maybe it wouldn’t hurt for some reassurance. “Is it too much, do you think? Jon’s gift.”

Both of their faces softened considerably, and Missi closed the door behind them as they came to her side, always prepared to support her even if the circumstances weren’t as dire as she was making them out to be. “Considering the basis on which you two met, I think it’s perfect,” Missi said sweetly.

“Really, Dany, he’s probably going to bend you over his lap the moment he realizes what it is,” Margaery piped in.

“I don’t need any further visuals of...nevermind,” Dany muttered, clearing her throat. “But you don’t think it’s...I don’t know. Gifts were never really a _thing_ with me before; is there an unspoken rule in terms of timelines? Like, should this be saved for an anniversary or something?”

“You’re so nervous,” Missi noted in a song-song voice, turning Dany’s shoulders to force her to look at her. There was no teasing in her warm almond eyes, only genuine concern for Dany’s anxieties. “Why are you so nervous?”

Gritting her teeth, Dany sucked in a breath, all of her words leaving on the exhale. “Because I really, really, _really_ like him and I’m afraid somehow I’ll scare him away.”

“Dany. Listen very closely to the words coming out of my mouth,” Missi bored her eyes into her own, as serious as a heart attack, “The Jon Snow that you know is the Jon Snow that Grey has had a flaming bromance with since high school. I promise he’s not going to suddenly turn into a raging asshole a la your exes. As Marge so gallantly put it, he is probably going to be so beside himself that you’re going to need to take a few days’ vacation to recover.”

Snorting, Dany closed her eyes with a nod. It was going to be a simple night. Dinner at Jon’s favorite local pub, then she would bring him back to her place for cake and gifts. He wasn’t huge on being doused with so much attention, so they respected his wishes when Dany expressed that wanted to do at least a little something for him, by not throwing anything too grandiose. And, surprise parties were out of the question. That was easy enough.

“Thank you,” Dany told her, lifting her watch to check the time. “Okay, I should go so I can get ready,” her eyes drifted to Marge, “are you sure you can’t make it? It’s not too late.”

Marge waved her off. “No, I appreciate it, but I have a full bottle of merlot that is calling my name, especially after this week,” she rolled her eyes.

It was true; ever since they had changed their marketing methods, they’d had a surge in new clients, and in the past week alone their workload had tripled. Dany could already feel it in her shoulders, and she was ready to relax for the rest of the evening.

The trio clocked out for the day, Dany telling Missi she would see her shortly as she made the short drive home, giddy in anticipation on seeing Jon’s stupidly beautiful face again. Yesterday had been a coincidence wherein they’d both gotten off work on time, without an over-abundance of work to catch up on at home, thus leading to many strenuous activities, and concluding her overall, leftover tiredness.

Once she parked, she shot him a text just to check in that their agreed upon 5:30 pick-up time was still doable. He had been a little unusually quiet in regards to their texting, though she knew that his day allowed for a lot less phone access than hers did, and that he was organizing both his class’s Christmas program as well as Christmas party that was coming up in just a few short weeks.

While she waited, she took a quick shower and blow-dried her hair, styling it in thick loose spirals, brushing some black mascara and thin black liner to her eyes with a pop of blush pink lipstick. She slipped on a new matching set of lacy underwear - black, because while red was sexy enough, there was something about the black that accentuated her breasts better. That, or because it was Jon’s favorite color. Lastly, as she was shimmying into a black, off-the-shoulder cocktail dress, her phone buzzed over the bathroom counter. Before zipping herself up, she reached forward, tilting her head to read Jon’s response.

_Jon: I’m ready anytime. Missing you like hell right now._

Her eyes narrowed a hair; it wasn’t so much that him saying he missed her. They both were ridiculous like that, reminding each other practically every few hours that very thing, but now that she knew his ‘textual body language’ as she dubbed it, something felt a little...off.

_Dany: Almost ready. See you in fifteen-ish. :)_

After she slipped her heels on, she gave herself a once-over in the mirror. The dress was v-cut at the bust, but tastefully so. Nothing too fancy, but enough to catch Jon’s eye. Before she left, she double-checked that everything was in order - cake in the refrigerator, two unlit candles on the small dining table, Jon’s favorite ale chilling in an ice-filled bucket all thanks to Grey for hunting it down as it apparently was highly sought-after. His gift lay in an envelope atop the table.

With everything in working order, she smiled, threw on her pale lilac peacoat, and went on her way.

* * *

Maybe she should have stuck to wearing the nude-colored stockings she had planned all along to wear, because the brisk breeze was about two degrees away from freezing everything south of her navel off. And, had she not worn her coat, she would have been recreating a scene by way of Marilyn Monroe, and she didn’t think that Jon’s elderly neighbors across the street would appreciate the view very much. Or maybe they would, which was a disturbing thought on its own.

Jon opened the door before she made it to his porch, a warm, beautiful smile spreading over his face as he looked her over. There was nothing the man wore (or did not wear) that didn’t look good on him, but the crisp white button-down and slate gray fitted trousers and brown belt around his slim waist was a reckless choice. She wanted to pounce, but would have to savor that thought for later, and try to pretend he was just a horrendous sight to look upon.

Grinning like an idiot, she captured his scruffy face between her hands, his arms instantly snaking around her waist inside her coat. “Happy birthday.”

He hummed in agreement, accepting her tender kiss, pulling away only to speak against her mouth. “Happy birthday to me, indeed.”

Tugging her inside and out of the cold November air, he disappeared briefly to fetch his coat, her eyes glued to his perfect ass as she sucked on her teeth, shaking her head. “Gods be good,” she murmured.

Modern fucking art, those cheeks.

Ghost entered the front room then, his fur chilled from doing his last bathroom break before he’d be alone, just for a little while. She had already told Jon that Ghost was more than welcome to enjoy their festivities back at her house. She would feel too guilty thinking about him lying here, all alone, waiting for Jon to come back.

Jon returned wearing a bomber jacket, adjusting his glasses up his nose, and it wasn’t until then that she saw it: the slight pink puffiness to his eyes that she somehow missed in broad daylight.

As he was collecting his house keys from the hook, she captured his wrist, sobering as she observed him properly. “You okay?”

He made a subtle shift in his face, as if to put it off, whatever was bothering him, but she gave his hand a light squeeze, a silent reassurance. “Aye. Hard day at work today,” he drew in a breath, “but I don’t want to put a damper on the night. I’ll tell you later,” he said with a small smile, kissing her cheek.

Before he could escape her grip, she cupped his jaw. “Are you sure? I know Missi and Grey wouldn’t mind taking a rain check.”

He gave her a nod with a more genuine smile. “I’m sure. I need the distraction.”

She threaded their fingers together properly. “Okay,” her lips curved upward, and they said their goodbyes to Ghost, and drove off to Tormund’s Pub.

* * *

Missi and Grey had arrived shortly before them, and upon entering the pub, were greeted by a most raucous man, whose fiery and wirey red hair and beard and icy, enormous eyes had her half wondering if she ought to throw herself in front of Jon. But they shared greetings that, clearly, were meant for two close friends: Jon, dubbed ‘crow’, and Tormund, dubbed ‘fuck face’. She didn’t know if she wanted to know that one, but she was ultimately curious about Jon’s moniker.

“Aah, so _you’re_ the beauty that has been keeping crow so occupied, eh?” His bushy eyebrows waggled suggestively, though Jon appeared more mortified than she felt.

“I think it’s the other way around,” she quipped cheekily, the arm she had looped with Jon’s giving him a tug. Tormund was delighted by this revelation, giving Jon’s back a firm clap with his obscenely-sized hand. She had yet to admit to Jon the things she thought about when she should have been working, but she expected he would come to know sooner than later.

“Ho-ho! That’s my boy! Alright, let me bring ya to your friends.”

Missi perked up immediately upon seeing them, even though she and Dany had just done so a couple of hours earlier, clapping excitedly. Naturally, she was proud of the work she and Grey had done to get them together, and the cherry on top was that it hadn’t been just for the one night.

Much to the delight of herself and Jon alike.

The pair stood up and passed hugs around before one couple sat across from the other. Given it was a Friday night, nearly every table and booth was claimed, the bar stools filled down the length of the counter where Tormund was tending. A steady hum and occasional drunken chortle was the only noise, save for a distant television playing some sporting event Dany couldn’t see. On the inner edge of their table, pushed up against the wall, was a small pile of gifts.

“Last year in your twenties,” Grey mused mournfully, Missi’s lips turning downward at the thought.

Jon slipped off his jacket and helped Dany out of hers in the slightly cramped space, and she completely relished in the heated look he shot her when he finally got to see, fully, her dress.

Grey snapped his fingers in front of Jon’s face, reclaiming his attention as the four of them laughed. Dany took up his hand under the table to rest on his thigh, sliding closer to nuzzle into his side, his other arm coming around to circle around her waist.

“It’s all downhill from here,” Grey continued, shaking his head apathetically. Missi rolled her eyes and gave him a light smack on his shoulder. “I’m telling you, I woke _up_ with my back hurting on my birthday, and you know I’ve always kept in shape. Just like you," he gave Jon a pointed look.

Dany could swear she saw Jon's eyes widen, just a flash, as if he was buying this conspiracy, and then it was gone.

She squeezed his hand under the table, making him turn to look at her with a humble smile that made her weak. Gods, did he make her weak.

Missi scowled at her boyfriend. "Leave Jon alone. Just because you’re too cheap to buy a new mattress doesn't mean Jon is going to wake up as an eighty year old."

“I haven’t heard _you_ complain about the quality of my mattress,” Grey replied, giving his girlfriend a saucy look. She weakly shoved him, sharply murmuring something in his ear that Dany couldn’t hear and making Grey appear quite pleased with himself.

While their friends bickered away, Dany leaned into Jon’s ear. “I can confirm that Missi is half the reason why he needs a new bed.”

Jon snorted, turning his head to kiss the tip of her nose, barely moving his lips as he spoke. “Might be my situation soon enough.”

The loveable bastard. She used the hand that was still entwined with his and gave him a firm pinch atop his firm thigh, barely finding any purchase, but making him snarl at her all the same. “Then it is either a poorly-made bed or we are just that good,” she whispered, brows jumping.

He moved to say something, probably equally as saucy and not meant for a dinner table even as inconspicuous as they could be in a public space, when their waitress appeared. Her voice was so shrill that it startled her away from Jon’s eyes that were growing darker each passing second.

But even as playful as he was, she could see that whatever had happened at work today was still niggling at him; she caught the very subtle signs with his occasional spacing out, or when his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.

They placed their orders - the guys each settling for burgers and fries, a large salad and soup for Missi, and Dany went for their house lasagna, hoping she could manage to eat it without staining her dress.

“You both still have some explaining to do,” Dany declared, eyes narrowing at the pair across the table, “as to how you didn’t introduce me to Jon a long time ago.”

Missi squeaked, practically choked, sharing an odd look with Grey, offering her hands up and jabbing her thumb in Grey’s direction.

Grey scoffed, mouth hanging open and eyes darting between the three of them. “Okay, you know that I love you both,” he began, “but-”

“Everything before the word ‘but’ is horse shit,” Jon rebuked good-naturedly, earning himself a tortilla chip thrown his way, his shoulders shaking with a silent laugh.

“Okay, _you_ ,” Grey poked his finger at the center of Dany’s face. She returned the movement, awaiting his explanation. “I didn’t think any person alive deserved you, especially not after Douchedick Naharis. That’s all I’m saying,” Grey waved his hands around as if fending off any further rebuttal.

“Aaaww,” Dany cooed, purposefully putting on some melodrama, reaching across the table to pinch his little cheeks. “I guess you’re forgiven.”

Grey flicked her hand away, though he was beaming, even as much as he tried to fight it. “I’d also like to add that maybe I knew you two could be a power couple, but the world wasn’t ready for that.”

“Bullshit,” Jon called over, lopsided grin on his handsome face, his thumb caressing over Dany’s hip.

Dany tilted her head back with a groan. “I’ve led such a lonely existence.”

“Listen here, little lady,” Missi pulled her attention back, “I have sat through many a nerd fest with you! How many bloody Harry Potter movies _are_ there anyway?”

“Yes, you _sat_ through all of them - literally - asleep!” Dany and Missi were both fighting back dissolving into a heap of giggles, because this was the playful banter on constant rotation between them, taking the piss out of the other without any true vitriol.

“Missi,” Jon cautioned, tisking at her. “Come on, now. Harry Potter deserves better.”

“Don’t you start on me, too, Snow,” Missi growled, “there was no eye candy to hold my interest.”

Jon pulled a face, a face that went straight between Dany’s thighs (figuratively, of course - hopefully literally, later), because she knew exactly where this conversation was going - they’d discussed this on the phone for a long time, among other qualities to the franchise. “Uh, Gary Oldman? Alan Rickman? Helena Bonham Carter?”

Face scrunching, Missi shook her head. 

“Mph. Give me a piece of that Helena,” Grey husked, rolling his shoulders.

Dany giggled, reaching across the table for Missi’s hand. “You know we love you. It’s just that your loyalties are often called into question.”

“Well, if there’s anything to call into question, it’s that your boyfriend has a certain twinkle in his eye at the name Gary Oldman,” Missi replied, squeezing Dany’s hand.

“He is a sexy man,” Jon shrugged, “But Snape is where it’s at. That sexy honorable idiot,” he chuckled, clearly thrilled with Missi’s befuddlement.

Their food rolled around, halting their back-and-forth. Dany slipped her hand from Jon’s to squeeze his thigh, moving close again. “If you keep talking like that I’ll be forced to find us a room. I don’t think I’d trust the bathrooms, though, given the...clientele.”

As if on cue, an obnoxious roar from the bar nearly silenced the rest of the pub. Jon arched a brow, his face turning and consequently brushing her nose with his. “If you keep teasing me…,” he trailed off, the tips of his fingers tracing up her inner thigh until she quickly snatched it and pinned it in place, eyes widening.

She could feel the heat burning her cheeks, spreading over her body as he grinned, slyly, planting a kiss to her cheek. Sucking in a mind-clearing breath, her eyes did a quick sweep around the table - if anybody had noticed their thirsty behavior, nobody reacted as such, their waitress’s complexion the same as it was when she left them to eat and not tomato red. They both straightened, hands moving up to tuck in rather than grope at each other.

* * *

Dinner was fun, and light, and filling, and they had spent two hours after they’d finished their meals just talking and laughing. Dany half regretted getting pasta, as her dress was already beginning to feel a bit tighter at the middle. But the carbs had been worth every last forkful. 

Jon’s gifts consisted of a fancy four-set of mugs to fuel his coffee addiction, a cake-shaped ‘bouquet’ that Dany was fawning over because somehow, within Missi’s obscenely creative hive of a mind, she had crafted it with numerous miniature liquor bottles taped to bamboo sticks.

Then, Grey made a point to clear his throat a bit obnoxiously, folding his hands atop the table after he withdrew a hidden wrapped object from his seat and placed it in front of him. “So, uh...funny story, a very _strange_ coincidence that you brought up being soulmates or whatever...”

Whatever was happening, Missi was near bursting in her seat. Grey pushed the square gift between Dany and Jon, and they exchanged a puzzled look.

“I’m scared,” Dany admitted, “you open it.”

“Wait!” Grey exclaimed, Jon’s hand pausing where it had just grazed the corner of the wrapping paper. “I feel like I should announce a disclaimer and also the backstory to this.”

“Okay,” Jon said slowly.

“So...Jon and I met in high school. Missi and Dany in grade school,” Grey laid out for them, his eyes dancing between each of their faces. “Sometimes our friends intermingled in the early college years. Does the name Theon Greyjoy ring any bells?”

In unison, Dany and Jon grouched a reluctant _yes_ , both of their heads turning toward each other in question, but Grey filled the gap very quickly.

And boy…

“So then, uh, do you remember the super ratchet, gummy party at his parents’ place that one summer?” Grey gnashed his teeth together, awaiting their response.

Jon threw his head back and clapped his hands together once with clear familiarity, while Dany was trying to reel her memory. “Wait...wait,” she was beginning to piece together that strange day - she definitely remembered being offered marijuana candy, which was the only _and_ the hardest drug besides alcohol she had ever ingested into her body, because she had too guilty of a conscience to do anything more. “I kind of remember...mountains…?”

“Exactly,” Grey encouraged. “Theon’s parent’s vacation home. His mum and dad were on holiday in the Caribbean, so we had a run of the place.”

Jon sat up then, head tilting. “Wait, when you say ‘we’...”

“Okay, just open it!” Missi chirped over him, shoving the thing across the table toward Jon.

In a few easy movements, Jon uncovered: two black-and-white photos on the same sheet in a frame, containing herself, Jon Snow, Theon Greyjoy, and Cersei Lannister (whom Dany was suddenly remembering had a crush on her own brother, unless her brain had been too foggy and made that up).

“Oh my _gods_ ,” Dany breathed, pressing against Jon to see it better. It was their first year in university, that much she knew, from their baby faces. They were standing together, arms around each other, and Dany didn’t know what she, especially, was doing, her back bending to an impossible angle...but the only thing she was truly focused on was Jon Snow, in all his beautiful glory, was holding her, and if she didn’t know any better, she might have thought he was appraising her rather lovingly in the second one.

It was completely unfair that he could look like that, with his longer wild curly hair, and age like a fine wine. It was also unfair that this was _nine years ago_ and they never met again until _now_ .

“I really thought I looked cool, didn’t I?” Jon grimaced, turning his attention to Dany. “Probably trying to impress you.”

“I only wish I remembered it,” she sighed longily, “why did we look like we were posing for some editorial magazine?”

MIssi giggled. “I distinctly remember Cersei singing _The Sound of Music_ , and everyone just sort of...went with it.”

“Look how cute you are,” Dany cooed, grinning madly as Jon cuffed the back of his neck with a grumble.

“I could barely grow a beard even then. Thank the gods for late puberty.”

“Stop it.”

“You should see my high school photos - don’t you dare,” he caught Grey’s gleaming eyes and wicked smile.

“Yes, please dare, I want to see!” Dany pleaded.

“Only if I get to see yours,” Jon returned, shooting Missi a knowing look.

“Oh, I have 

Jon opened his last present, which was a very expensive-looking watch with a black leather band, a beautiful cyan blue face, and gold inlay. “Holy shit,” he muttered, brows raising as he lifted his head to look at Missi and Grey. “Thanks, guys. I hope you didn’t spend too much on this.”

Grey was a physician’s assistant at their local hospital, and Missi did very well financially on her own as well, so they were comfortable enough, and Dany always knew the both of them to go all out for their best of friends. Waving him off, Grey assured him that it was nothing, and he owed Jon from paying for their apparently impromptu vacation to Italy a couple of years ago. A story that Dany would certainly be hounding him about another time.

As much fun as they were having, they continued to get more and more regular visits by their waitress, asking if they wanted dessert or the check or if they wanted to move to the bar for drinks, they decided it was a good time to call it a night and free up a table. That was before Dany, Missi, and Grey argued who would pick up the bill, quickly hushing Jon when he offered, and they ended up just splitting it three ways.

Plus, Dany could tell Jon was getting tired, a result of all of his extended hours he had been putting in at the school, and she was quite ready to just cuddle up with him. And, her brain kept reminding her that she still had a very important gift (or two) of her own to give him when they got back to her place.

First thing, they picked up Ghost, as promised, the good boy’s tongue lolling lazily out of his mouth and giving her car some very serious sniffs. “I promise no other animals have been in here,” she told him over her shoulder as they made the short journey back to her place, her stomach a mess of nervousness and excitement alike.

When they got in, Jon freed Ghost from his leash and the beast began his investigative work, as if he didn’t quite trust that she didn’t have another living being in her house. She realized, belatedly, that maybe she should have adopted a pet since she got her permanent place of residence two years ago, but with how inconsistent her work hours were...she’d hate to put that on them and potentially leave them home alone all day. Even if she did get to do some remote days, it wouldn’t be fair to them.

She grabbed a lighter and lit the two candles on the table, flicking on some lights, then pulled his cake out and stuck exactly twenty-nine candles in it. Was it overboard? Absolutely. But it made Jon laugh when he walked in, and he did a double check that her smoke alarms were installed before taking his shoulders and making him sit. Ghost, very promptly, joined them, though his eyes were dead set on the dessert above, and his jowls were already slobbery.

“C’mere,” Jon husked at her before she could move to sit opposite him, extending his hand and pulling her onto his lap. He sighed contentedly as she looped her arm around his shoulders, the fluff of his hair providing her a soft pillow against her cheek.

“Make a wish,” she murmured, tipping her head around to be sure he complied as a wide smile spread across his face, closing his eyes. She didn’t think he would take it that seriously, but it was a solid few seconds before he opened them again and leaned forward, blowing out each candle in one puff.

“Yay!” She clapped, her face softening now. “I think before we get to my present to you, we should talk about what happened at work today,” she muttered, kissing his temple.

Heaving a small sigh, he nodded in agreement. 

Another thing she learned about him? He used to bottle up and internalize things as a child, afraid that Lyanna didn’t need the additional worry and stress even though she would have ridden the tide with all of the support she had always given him. The thing that had taught him that communication was key to healthy relationships, regardless of hurt feelings, was taking up his profession as a teacher. He was quick to understand that he couldn’t teach children his self-inflicted values when it came to basically self-combusting rather than walk on eggshells around other people.

He was incredibly open and vulnerable with her, however, which made her heart grow three sizes too big for her chest, but sometimes, _sometimes_ , she could see that little bit of remaining self-doubt. Luckily for him, or at least she hoped, she grew up in a very passive household. And aggressive, but she supposed she would get to that with him one of these days soon enough. For that, it came a little bit more naturally to her, but there was much she had to learn and re-learn over the years, too, coming from such a toxic household growing up.

It was interesting that they both had that in common, in different ways.

She slid off his lap, his hand fixing the back of her dress where it had lifted slightly, poured themselves both a healthy glass of his favorite ale, and took him over to the living room to sit more comfortably. Ghost was busy upstairs, his footsteps making the floor creak in certain spots.

Dany reclaimed her spot in Jon’s lap, tugging over a warm sherpa throw around her shoulders, patient as he wound his arms around her. She handed him his glass, his thank you a soft murmur, and she sipped at hers. She wasn’t much an ale gal, but it had almost a citrusy aftertaste that she liked.

“You remember that Halloween project I mentioned, the night we met?”

She nodded, fingers slowly, lightly, drawing little shapes over his chest where he had undone the first couple of buttons.

“There’s this boy in my class, Ned. He didn’t turn his essay in on time, which wasn’t entirely unusual,” Jon said, his brow pinching harshly as he thought, “he’s been struggling to keep up for the last several months. Mind you, it was only eight lines of what scared them the most.”

She listened, intently, unable to formulate where this may have gone wrong.

Jon cleared his throat. “By the second week, I had to send a letter home to his parents, because my hand was forced to start grading him appropriately. I felt like such an asshole, but I’m stuck between a rock and a hard place trying to help shape these kids into relatively decent human beings, with at least a modest sense of understanding that the real world has some harsh expectations.”

He sucked in a breath, his head shaking in a slow, small jerk.

“Finally, today he turned it in,” Jon’s voice wavered, making Dany lift her head so she could see him properly, and her heart shattered. The dim light over in the kitchen gave way to a noticeable, thin line of wet gathering in his eyes. “Gods, Dany, you should have seen the bruises on his arms. I only noticed it because his sleeve had caught, and somehow I was able to get him to trust me enough to stay after class to talk to him. And, maybe the worst part…,” he shook his head again, tucked his chin downward as a few tears dropped onto his pants.

She hated this - feeling helpless, that he was enduring something so horrific. She knew how much he loved every single child in that class. Like one of his own. She set her cup down on the coffee table.

His voice cracked when he gathered himself enough to speak again, and she curled her arm around his shoulders, kissing the bit of exposed neck above his collar in the back, allowing her lips to rest there. A constant presence, a small comfort that she was still there. “He had written that paper _that morning_ , after he was forced to walk to school in the cold, and he didn’t meet the requirement of the eight lines, because it simply said ‘I’m afraid to go home every day because my parents scare me’.”

He sniffed, and Dany hadn’t realized that she’d been crying until he sat up a bit more and she moved as he did so. Words failed her for what felt like an eternity. “I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine…,” she shook her head now, because she truly couldn’t. It was unimaginable. “What happened after?”

“As a teacher I’m also a mandated reporter - not that I wouldn’t have done something in any other profession, and I’m afraid of what other wounds he may have had that weren’t visible,” he said, voice slightly hoarse, “I told my supervisor, and they had to call the authorities. Ned is staying with an aunt for now, who he told me he likes when we spoke in private, until the investigation digs up enough evidence that he, hopefully, won’t be able to go back to his home. I should’ve known, Dany. There were so many signs…”

“No,” she said calmly, hand taking his jaw to turn him toward her, “you can’t possibly know the ins and outs of every child. I mean, I think I may underestimate you, particularly, but…,” she smiled, a small one, which he mirrored. “You couldn’t have truly known. But you probably saved his life today, I think you know that much.”

She said it calmly, steady, because her humble Jon Snow withered under praise and compliments, but to her satisfaction, he nodded once more. “Aye. That’s _if_ -”

She pressed her fingers to his lips, effectively silencing him. “No ifs. One day at a time, but you did a wonderful thing. And a very brave one.”

There was an argument brewing there, on his tongue - she saw it in the way his jaw moved to do so, but she swallowed it up with a tender kiss.

“Thank you,” he whispered to her lips, arms tugging her a little bit closer. She lifted her hand to sweep away both of their faces where they’d each shed a few tears, careful not to smear any on his glasses. They sat like that for a long, comfortable several minutes, until Ghost finally decided to join the party again.

“Did everything check out?” Dany asked him, patting the couch at her other side as he hopped up, spinning a few times until he flopped down and sighed. “Guess that’s a ‘yes’ then, huh?”

When she turned to look at Jon again, half expecting that he had fallen asleep given his placid state, she discovered that he, instead, was peeping down the front of her dress where it had slightly bunched open from the position she sat in. His falsely innocent eyes drifted back up to hers, suspiciously so. “What’s going on in there?”

“As in…?” She played dumb, fixing the front so he could no longer cheat at his final surprise for the evening. “Are they drooping?”

“No, but they’d still be my favorite if they were.”

“Very smooth, Jon Snow. I’m watching you. Do you want your non-tit gift now?”

He snorted, but she was already on her way to the kitchen to scoop up the envelope and pushing it in his hands before he could respond, and promptly nuzzling her face back into his neck.

Chuckling, he craned his head to see her. “Why are you hiding in there?”

“Because I have this irrational fear that you’ll maybe think I overstepped,” she mumbled against his skin, burrowing further even as he tried to catch her eyes. “Open it. Please.”

“Dany, look at me,” he gently nudged her head with his shoulder, as she semi-reluctantly did as he asked. Then, he leaned in and pressed his warm lips to her, instantly thawing her from the roots of her hair to her toes, like the magic that he was. He pulled away, pecked her again, then looked her directly in the eyes. “You’re all that I want. Everything else is just…,” he drew in a breath, “icing on the cake.”

She rolled her eyes, but her lips pulled into a wide smile anyway. “Puns are my weak spot, and I sort of hate that you know that now,” she pinched his cheek, nodding toward the envelope.

Holding her breath, his finger slipped beneath the flap and flipped it up, tugging the edge open and pulled out two laminated badges with thick, bold letters sprawled across it: COMIC CON, and the top in smaller black font, SAN DIEGO. Not only that, but the printed photo on the front was a most infamous golden ring of power with the white text against black written in sharp letters: _COMMEMORATING THE_ _20TH ANNIVERSARY OF THE LORD OF THE RINGS._

She eyed him, if not a bit warily against his silence, his throat bobbing as he swallowed thickly. “Fuck, Dany,” he finally tilted his head up and kissed her immediately, then several more times. Upon the third, her smile so large it almost hurt, she felt a warm dampness against his cheek, now on her cheek.

He pulled away and sniffed, clearing his throat as he drew his eyes back downward. “I’m a blubbering mess today. Shit. How did you get these? They’re next to impossible to buy.”

“You underestimate me,” she said, relief making her skin tingle, “but there is a back story, sort of. I guess while we’re having the serious conversations...I actually had gotten a pair a few years ago, stupidly thinking that Daario would even want to go with me. We had absolutely nothing in common, I...anyway. I told you about the photos he took of me…”

Now, she had his full attention, their positions swapped. “Aye. I still wish I hurt him a little bit more. Maybe cut his dick off.”

Dany laughed, scratching at his beard. This part she had intentionally extracted when she first made her confession to Jon about Daario’s abusive, asshole motives, because the last thing she wanted to do was dump all of her baggage on the poor man on a first-meeting basis. “Well, he had posted them to various social media accounts. Which is why I have zero presence on any of them. I hate it, I hate what that entire fiasco did to me.”

Instantly, Jon set aside the badges, his entire body rotating so face her, and never in their entire time together had she ever seen such contempt written all over his face. He was practically snarling. “What the fuck?”

For whatever reason, his passionate response calmed her. Maybe it was because she had been over it, what Daario had done to her, or also the fact that Jon’s protectiveness was just one in a gazillion reasons why he was so damned attractive. “Yeah. Well, that whole mess...I found out soon after I got the badges that year. Not only was I not going to go with him, obviously, but I wasn’t in any mental or emotional state to even think I would enjoy it. There was therapy...all of that.”

Subconsciously, maybe even numbly, he shook his head, silently seething. “If I ever see him again…,” his breath stuttered as he tried to calm himself.

“It’s okay, Jon. He can’t hurt me anymore,” she turned his head up so he could see that she meant it, she wasn’t just trying to make him feel better for the hell of it. “The photos got permanently removed after I managed to scrounge up a decent lawyer, and I reported him a couple of days after Halloween. Since he technically broke into Missi’s house uninvited, and violated the restraining order, _and_ physically assaulted you and another guy, the judge is ordering him a few months of jail time and fines.”

A long breath of air left him, his eyes closing and forehead pressing to hers. “Still won’t stop me if I see him on the streets after his time is up in there.”

Dany hummed with a smile, tilting her chin up to kiss his forehead. “As incomprehensibly sexy as it was that you broke his nose, I don’t want him anywhere near you. He’s dangerous. And I like your face too much.”

Jon made a sound that resembled an incoherent grumble, a stubborn agreement.

“I have something else for you, but it requires a bedroom and a lot less clothes.”

“Say no more.”

She yelped as he abruptly pushed to his feet, taking her with him.

* * *

“Sit,” she ordered him, swatting his hands away when he tried to figure out how her dress came off. He backed up, sitting once his legs hit the edge of the bed. She stepped closer - she had debated this very scenario far too many times throughout the day, unable to decide if she should undress herself privately and then just show up wit the underwear on, or let him do it himself. Since it was his birthday, she would give him the honors, that way she could watch him slowly unravel.

Her knees nudged his apart until she was standing between his legs, their only source of light being the dull blue of the moonlight against her white curtains. It was just enough that they could see each other relatively clearly.

“Okay. Get to work, Jon Snow,” one corner of her lips pulled up, his hands immediately searching for the zipper, and she admitted she was impressed when he did so almost right away.

She shivered against his hands rolling down her shoulders to slide the garment down, and when it folded over and off her breasts, laying at her middle, Jon groaned and stuffed a fist between his teeth. “Fucking hells.”

Her thighs trembled, and her cunt pulsed, and he had better get a move on else she was going to have her way with him. Luckily, he somewhat pulled himself together, tugging the rest of the dress down until she kicked it away, and when she leaned down to unstrap her heels, he took her wrists hostage. “Those stay on,” he rasped, nearly making her moan already. When he got like this, his northern burr amplified.

Straightening her back, she flushed under his languid gaze, wherein his eyes dragged upward from her feet all the way to her face. Without breaking their electric staredown, his arm hooked around her lower back and pulled her as close as he could get her, his other fingers sewing through her hair and lowering her head to meet his needy lips.

Her lips eagerly parted for him, welcoming his curious tongue, which knew her by heart at this point, yet never failed to reduce her into a sopping lecherous mess. He dragged his lips away, tugging on her until she straddled his hips, her thighs barricading him as he tracked wet, hot kisses down the sharp line of her jaw, the column of her neck.

In tandem, his hands smoothed over her skin, from her belly around to her back, fingers sliding up beneath the clasp of her bra. When she sat, fully on his lap, he growled against her shoulder when she put pressure on the hard bulge in his trousers. His lips suctioned on her skin, his tongue lapping over her shoulder bone.

She rolled her hips over his covered cock, his fingers curling against her back, drawing a heady moan from her. Jon nuzzled his face between her cleavage, his teeth dragging over the skin until the edge of lace stopped him - but then he moved over that, the heat of his mouth closing over her straining nipple making her hips buck into him, gasping.

She dropped her hands, hastily unbuttoning his shirt, resisting the temptation to tear it off of him, until he snatched her hands and wound his arms around her. A bit pathetically, she whined, until he flipped her onto her back so swiftly it made her chuckle loudly into the air. His beard chafed her skin where he nudged aside the thin bra cup, working at drawing her other nipple into a pebbled peak, his hand palming over her cunt.

Her legs flew around his torso, trying to be mindful amid his teasing of not spearing holes into his back with the points of her heels. Fingers dragging up her cunt, her breath trapped in her throat, she squeezed her thighs around him, slamming her eyes closed. Something about the added friction of the lace between her and his fingers were doing a number on her prematurely, and he hadn’t even gotten his clothes off yet.

Which she wouldn’t have, willing herself to sit up and reach for his collar again, but he caught her yet again, a devious glint in his eyes and plush lip caught between his teeth. “You’re not playing fair,” she whispered, or rather, panted.

With his hands lacing in hers, hee crawled up onto his knees, pushing her up the bed with him until they were fully aboard. Then, wordlessly, ignoring her protest, he laid her down and dropped his head, licking the length of her from the hollow of her throat, a straight line down her middle.

“Fuck, Jon!” she keened, arms splaying out at her sides and white-knuckling the sheets, her face screwed up tight.

Just as his sultry mouth was mere inches away from where she needed him most, he lifted his head, although she was grateful that she could collect some air again. Fluttering her eyes open, she watched as he took up the honor of undoing and peeling off his own shirt, her heart pounding against her chest as his eyes devoured her, arms and legs completely spread over the bed.

His eyes reflected the appearance of coal, his shirt falling away giving way to his beautifully toned torso, the faint, filtered moonlight only accentuating the rippled of his abs. She whimpered against his mouth as he returned to her, her hands roving his smooth skin, making his stomach twitch under her touch. The kisses were filthy, and wet, and he seemed determined to taste every inch of her.

Trading positions, she let him show her what it was he had planned for her, a small smile dancing on her lips as he got himself comfortable on his back. His eyes never left hers, hands slipping to the back of her thighs as he guided her up, and up, and when she paused with her hips over his chest, further up.

This was something she’d never tried before, only a momentary flicker of uncertainty crossing her face until he positioned her directly above his face, and she already was bracing her hands atop the head board, biting back a moan at the sight of his face so near her constricting cunt. His fingers curled around the hem of her panties, pulling them down to settle as low as he could get them, hands sliding up her thighs until he fit her ass into both of his palms.

With a gentle pull, he lowered her onto his mouth, the first testing lap of his tongue forcing her to lurch forward, but his hands kept her pelvis in place, her fingernails digging into the wooden headboard. Jon sealed his mouth over her completely, a desperate, open-mouthed moan burning her throat. A rumbling growl echoed through him in turn, his tongue tracing her folds, then suckling on her clit and consequently making her knees wobble.

She gripped the headboard impossibly tighter, her joints aching, an exuberant need to search for more friction but afraid she would smother him. Her thighs tightened when his knuckles grazed over her skin, feather light, tracing a path toward her aching channel.

As his mouth worked at her clit, his teeth lightly grazing and making her jump and gasp, he easily pushed two digits knuckle-deep into her clenching channel, and she nearly screamed - the type of thing she thought only happened in the movies - turning her head to muffle herself against her arm, head lolling lazily.

She felt that she might suffocate on lack of air alone with how each pump of his fingers, each tug of her clit into the hot cavern of his mouth, the content concentration written over his brow as he pleasured her. Her crest was so, so close, her hips moving on their accord to seek that last stretch of relief, his hand pulling her down tighter, encouraging, and the moment he sunk a third finger inside of her and pulled her clit between his lips, she detonated.

A desperate cry wailed from her, her hips surging over him, working against his fingers and mouth and resulting in her slumping over him entirely, head buried in the pillow above his head and gulping air as much as she could find it.

She was only vaguely aware that he scooted up, his hands steadying her at her sides as he pressed soft, warm kisses to her stomach. “Are you trying to find the lasagna?”

A hot puff of air bloomed across her skin as he laughed a breathy laugh, giving her ass cheek a little smacking. “I think I need to start documenting all of your post-sex quips.”

She turned her head and sunk it into the pillow, but his arms coiled around her and rolled her beneath him instead. So sated that she didn’t even bother pushing her hair away from her face, so he took to the task himself, then helped take off her panties the rest of the way, arching a sympathetic brow. “Did I wreck you already?”

He wished.

Hands pushing at his shoulders, a dopey grin spread across his face as he braced himself up on his elbows, her legs straddling his thighs as she undid his pants and hoisted them down along with his boxer briefs. His cock slapped against his stomach, flushed and ardent, and she didn’t give him even a second to think before she took him in hand and supped, sliding his length as far as she could take him, her tongue sweeping down.

He collapsed onto his back, a string of curses hissing through gritted teeth, and she peeked up to see his hands covering his face. She smirked against him, dragging his lips up while her hand pumped him steadily, letting her teeth graze over him in the way that she knew would have him squirming.

“Fuck,” he wheezed, blowing practiced breaths out of his mouth in an attempt to douse his downhill battle to hold off, but there was a distinct tremble in it. Swirling her tongue around the ridge, he grunted violently, his hand carding through her locks to keep her there, slowly rising his hips, the scrape of his nails making her hum around him.

“Dany,” he pleaded, bobbing deeper until he bumped the back of her throat, his hips twisting and hand grasping for her arm, gently pulling her up to him. In a few swift movements, he met her halfway and crashed his mouth against hers, hand slipping to her back to unhook her bra, tossing it away and promptly kneading her breasts.

She pushed him forward, sweeping his lips with her tongue and pivoted her pelvis, his hips snapping up and burying himself until their skin kissed. Keening, she broke away from him with a smack of her lips, his hand snaking down to press circles over her clit. She pushed up on her knees, sinking down onto him once more, nibbling on his lip as he drew in a sharp breath.

He shifted, planting one foot firmly on the bed, holding himself up with his arm whilst the other cupped around the back of her neck, the angle requiring her to brace one of her hands flat against the bed. Someone was feeling experimental tonight, but she was the furthest thing away from complaining, especially as he propelled upward, and there it was - he found that particular spot that had stars popping before her eyes, her skin tingling, her free hand using what strength remained to grasp at his back. 

As they moved together, found a rhythm that had them exchanging ragged noises, the crude sounds of their joining filling the room, she tucked her face into his neck, peppering kisses against his damp, salty skin. The new angle had his pelvis grinding against her clit, making her mouth at the juncture of his neck, her lungs ablaze and his heady grunts a beautiful chant in her ear, spurring her on.

“Dany…,” his lungs begged for air, she could hear it, their chests pressed together and rising and falling together, his movements becoming more erratic, less controlled as he sped up.

Dany hiked her leg up higher, around his waist, opening herself up more for him, and after three punishing jerks of his cock stroking her walls, she came, more violently than before, so much so that only a high-pitched mewl was the only sound that escaped, the rest of it air. It was simply absorbed by Jon’s mouth as he tipped her jaw back up to swallow her breathlessness, the gripping contractions of her cunt coaxing him until his mouth fell open against hers, a wolfish growl ripping within his throat, his hips flush with hers and freezing as he spent inside of her. His length pulsed and expelled, and he sluggishly eased them both down with a few lazy pulls and pushes.

He pulled her quivering limbs down onto his, not bothering to disjoin just yet, too busy snagging air. With her ear pressed against his chest, slightly clammy and warm, she listened to his erratic heartbeat, smiling sleepily. His fingers played with her hair, making her eyes grow heavier by the second.

Jon pulled his waist down and slid out of her, careful not to tousle her about as he sat up and bent her legs up, unstrapping her heels and dropping them to the floor. She’d almost forgotten about them until the blunt soreness crept it now that they were freed, wiggling and stretching her toes.

"I'm still determined to discover something about you that's not stupidly perfect," she muttered, voice thick with grogginess. "Just to make sure you're real."

He draped himself over her, where she had rolled onto her belly, dropping a kiss between her shoulder blades. "Likewise," he mumbled against her, then laid himself atop her back, sighing.

She grunted with a laugh and struggled to roll onto her back, enveloping him with her arms. He kissed the top slope of her breast and made himself a home against her chest, his arm slung over her waist.

"Still can't believe you got those tickets," he said with groggy wonder.

She slid his hair through her fingers, watching it spring back into place. "You'd better start believing, Jon Snow. I just wish we didn't have to wait eight months."

"You might hate me before then," he mused, idly tracing the length of her side.

She shook her head. "You’re not getting off that easily. I'm afraid you're stuck with me," she tightened her arms to punctuate her point. 

“I get off just fine with you,” he murmured cheekily, earning himself a hearty pinch to his back, and she was disheartened to discover he wasn’t ticklish even in the slightest.

The bed dipped at their feet suddenly, and then Ghost was suddenly stepping between them, uncaring that he was tripping over their tangled limbs, his tail wagging furiously and taking turns licking their faces.

“Seven hells,” Jon spluttered, whilst Dany giggled like a fool.

Dany reached up and took his precious white face in her hands and stroked the place below his ears, instantly calming him. “I’m sorry. Did we leave you alone for too long?”

“Spoiled rotten,” Jon grumbled, wrapping his arms around Ghost’s middle and pulling him on top of him. Interestingly, Dany never would have assumed any dog would allow being handled in such a way, but then again she’d never had one growing up. Ghost seemed to expect it, certainly accepted it, his long front legs happily lounging over Jon’s shoulders while Jon massaged the dog’s shoulders. Ghost’s eyes blinked slowly, giving a harsh huff.

“I wonder why?” Dany said, lifting her hand to trace a finger down his long snout, his eyes pressing shut, and then he tucked his head sideways over Jon’s bare chest, and her heart burst. She scooted closer, pulling her duvet up to her chest, laying her head on her bent arm and continued to stroke his snout until his breaths slowed into a deep sleep.

It was only a matter of a few minutes, but her eyes drifted up to Jon’s to find him also passed out, his hands stilled and buried against Ghost, rolling her eyes playfully. There it was: one thing she could claim she envied, his ability to fall asleep with impeccable speed - and with an eighty-something pound dog draped over him, at that.

Carefully, so as to not stir either of them, she sat up and leaned her upper half over toward Jon, kissing his cheek before reclaiming her own spot, and settled for the night. 

  
  
  


* * *

  
If this ever happened in real life at any capacity, I would probabaly actually die, just so you all know. 😭  
  
  



	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They're baaaack! Nearly 25K later, that is. No, it's not abandoned, just continues to be my no-stress, write-as-I-go between writing other WIP's and the business of life in general.
> 
> I slowly chipped away at this right after chapter two, but have been really pouring over it for the last week or so. Prepare for a buttload of fluff, sprinkles of smut, and just a fun time had by all. We start off with with Jon's POV for a while before jumping to Dany, getting some insight into his perspective. Then it's holiday shenanigans featuring one Lyanna Stark.
> 
> (Now I'm jumping over to finish that last chap of Northern Wind)
> 
> Anyway, enjoy! And happy belated holidays and new year to everyone. Hope you're all staying safe and healthy out there, and let's hope 2021 is a better time for everyone, yeah?

How could he feel so much about another person after just over a month’s time?  
  


Daenerys Targaryen was about all he could think about. All day. Every day. She tormented his mind in all the right ways. He had been in a handful of relationships before. None of them ever felt like this. The closest would had to have been his very first, because it was new and exciting and he was only fifteen - what the bloody hells did he know at fifteen? Absolutely nothing, which explained how he was taken advantage of way back when.

The rest that followed weren’t much better. So he’d taken a break, decided to work on himself, his blossoming career, and right when he felt he had begun to level out…

Enter: Dany.

He _felt_ fifteen again, like if he had been given a chance by whatever gods, if they were of any existence, to have a redo, only fourteen years later. The giddiness, how the work days both dragged and flew past him in equal measure, not to mention how one of his closest friends at Oxford Primary, Edd (a squirrely, deceivingly bright science teacher, whom the kids absolutely adored for his witty mind, and rightly so) continued to ask what was wrong with his face, why gravity was defying his natural appearance.

Jon had simply rolled his eyes, often finding himself smiling for what would appear to be for absolutely no reason at all, but he had it stored away in his mind.

And then the godsdamned San Diego Comic Con tickets.

How the fuck could he conjure up a way in which to thank her enough? There wasn’t, really. In pieces, in pauses when the kids had quiet time to read, or his lunch break, or more frequently at home, he would stew on it, and would shoot Dany a text, because he was still flummoxed over it.

In summary, they usually went something like: _SDCC? Fuuuuuck._

Which was mild, because his mind was a jumbled mess of excitement. _  
  
_

It wasn’t _just_ that they were next-to-impossible tickets to grab for some highly sought-after convention. It wasn’t just that it was one place where he could obsess, without an uttering of embarrassment, over all of his love for fandom. It was his childhood spent pining over something he accepted long ago he would just never find the opportunity to fulfil a silly boy’s dream. He attributed that very memory with the things that got him through the rocky, jagged terrain that was his childhood: escapism.

It was funny how fate seemed to be playing with him in that way. That he should meet this astounding woman who was just as stupidly fixed on so many of the same things he was, and unapologetically so.

He adored Dany for it. And he adored her genuine kindness, her empathy, how she tuned in so intensely when he spoke and somehow, she knew when to offer advice, and when he just needed a listening ear.

Of course, they didn’t often bring their baggage home with them when they were together, but that was all a part of the early stages of a relationship, he supposed. But, casually, comfortably, those walls were slipping away. It wasn’t because either of them were afraid to speak openly, he didn’t think that at all, but just that there was this shared, silent mutual understanding, that they were there for one another, whenever, wherever, however.

Aside from the mindblowing sex from day one, they were taking it slow. Discovering each other. Learning. Listening.

Not only were other staff members taking notice of his slightly more upbeat appearance (who was he kidding? His natural resting face had him looking rather mopey, a trait that was apparently blessed upon him from his lovely mother, who, too, looked in a constant state of wanting to murder every person in the room). But his kids noticed, too.

_Too_ _much_.

“Mr. Snow? What’s happened to your neck?”

His brain shouted _fuck_ whilst his hand shot up to cover the mark that he had forgotten about until just then. His birthday night - which he desperately avoided thinking about that evening when he was at school, due to certain images plaguing him - Dany had made mention of giving him a taste of his own medicine since she had to endure wearing a scarf for several days at work. And putting up with numerous questioning and side-eyes when she kept said scarves on even when the furnace had been turned up and she was sweating. 

He deserved it.

The bell had just rung, declaring the end of his day, and he had assumed Shireen was merely taking her time arranging her backpack as she so often did, when she stayed behind a moment.

Luckily, the first excuse that came to the forefront of his mind wasn’t something entirely reaching. He cut little Shireen an unbothered look and a gentle smile, despite her concern over his reaction.“Nicked my skin while shaving," he kissed his teeth, "clumsy hands. What's that you've got there?" He nodded toward where her little arms were held behind her back.

An enormous toothy grin danced on her face, crinkling the scarring along the left side of her face - a birth defect that left it marred but her spirit untouched - and withdrew two pieces of paper, each side covered with her print.

He frowned slightly, accepting it when she handed it to him. A brief scan of it told him all he needed to know, lifting his head to study her, unable to keep a smile at bay with how adorably proud she looked. “Shireen, this wasn’t due for another two weeks...and it’s four pages, twice the requirement.”

“Yes,” she chirped, his grin widening, “have you ever tried to write about Aegon the Conqueror in _only_ four pages?”

Jon chuckled, shaking his head. “I’ve written too many dissertations to count, but none so eloquently on Aegon, I’m certain. Are you sure you don’t want to keep this? In case you want to revisit it before the Christmas program.”

Shireen shook her head resolutely. “No, Mr. Snow. I know you’ll have to read them all over Christmas, probably with your girlfriend, and I thought if you had one less, you could spend more time with her.”

Jon blinked, unsure of where the hells to even start with that, but he figured he may as well be blunt. “My...how do you know I have a girlfriend?” He asked slowly, a playful lilt toning his voice.

“Mr. Snow,” Shireen sighed dramatically, clasping her hands in front of her and tilting her head, “two weeks ago, you had another mark on your neck, very low, just here,” she jammed her index near her collarbone - exactly about where the collar of his dress shirts folded over. Exactly where Dany may have bit him, but he thought it had been hidden enough, that surely his shirts didn’t shift that much during the day.

His face had never felt so aflame, and she wasn’t done yet.

“So unless you’re as hairy as a werewolf, I don’t think it was a shaving accident. Plus, Mr. Edd said you were _smitten_ with someone. So, I thought you might want to spend more time with her than reading my paper.”

Setting Shireen’s papers down, he rested his elbows atop his desk, folding his hands together, a million thoughts racing through his mind in tandem. His astute eight-year-old student noticed not one but _two_ hickeys, Edd was shouting about his business among other students, Shireen was more sympathetic toward his time off than, possibly, the quality of her essay assignment. Though, he knew it would be beyond satisfactory - she got the highest marks in her writing courses, and she never failed to impress him with how she absorbed information. Like a sponge.

Jon cleared his throat, resisting the urge to bark a laugh at how calm she was, despite his own personal horror. “Well, I appreciate that, and Mr. Edd I will deal with. But I also don’t want you to forfeit your work on my behalf,” he smiled warmly, “I’ll hang onto it, read it over, but if you think of something before its due date, let me know, okay?”

Satisfied, Shireen nodded violently.

“Oh, and,” Jon gave her a pointed look, “I am part werewolf, so…”

She giggled with a roll of her eyes. “See you tomorrow, Mr. Snow.”

He huffed a laugh, waving her off, looking down at his watch to find he was a half hour over his normal departure time. Retrieving his phone from the top drawer, he caught himself up on his messages, some from Dany and a couple from his mum.

Because he had been in cloud nine about the convention, he continued to tell Dany as much, and her response had been that if he was up for it, they needed to go all out in their cosplaying, and she wanted to allow him to choose who they dressed as.

But, he’d responded, Dany was the Halloween queen, as Missi had noted to him at the party, and he was gladly handing those reigns over to her to decide. Her last reply was that it had to be something not too distracting, else she would need to jump his bones the entire weekend.

Something he would be one hundred percent on board with, if he didn’t fear ruining their costumes.

He briefly closed out of the thread and opened his mum’s.

_Lyanna: Three weeks!!! Please don’t forget my granddog._

Ah, yes. Each year he, and Ghost when he’d adopted him, drove into London to spend Christmas with her, as well as several weekends in the summer when he wasn’t taking up summer classes. This year, the idea of inviting Dany this time around had been winding around his brain for a week or so. A part of him worried that the notion of _meeting the family_ , so to speak, the only family he had, was maybe a little bit premature - that perhaps waiting another month would make more sense, make everyone more comfortable…

But that was just it, wasn’t it? Dany was not like anyone else. Not that he needed it, but the way in which Missi and Grey both attested to her heart, her loving nature, was more than enough to persuade him. She was not any of his exes, where the gut-twisting and nausea-inducing anxieties of introducing them to his mum had been disastrous at best. His third and former girlfriend he hadn’t even bothered to make much of an effort at all, as she appeared to be obscenely jealous of him having any female relationships outside of her.

And with all of that said, he could say without any semblance of doubt that Lyanna would adore Dany. She’d never had a daughter, and he got the feeling there would be a whole shit load of embarrassing stories to be shared, but he didn't mind.

He opened his contacts and drew up Dany's name. She would still be working for a bit yet, he knew, even though her shift technically ended fifteen minutes ago.

It only took a few rings until she picked up.

"What are you wearing right now?" She answered by way of greeting, making him snort.

"I'd rather know what _you_ are wearing," he replied, leaning back in his chair. Her wardrobe typically consisted of skinny trousers or pencil skirts and pretty tops, which often gave him sexy librarian vibes, which was not where he needed his thoughts to tamper with right now.

"Why don't you come find out?"

_Oh. Shit._

"Actually," he drawled, gritting his teeth, and trying to focus on what he _actually_ called her for, "I wanted to see what you were up to. Are you still at work?"

"Unfortunately," she sighed, "I have this very lovely author whose book series is surging in popularity, but he's proposing the worst ending of all time for its main protagonist. I'm trying to talk him out of it."

"Sounds like a good time," he said in jest, "I can bring dinner?'

She groaned in his ear. "You _and_ food? Are you here yet?"

Chuckling lightly, he reached beneath his desk and pulled his bag out, safely tucking away Shireen's papers into a folder before sliding it inside the bag. "Your building is right by those taco trucks, aye?"

"You mean the very one that I'm pretty sure I've kept in business all on my own? Yes," she laughed, though he could hear the stress in her voice, a slight strain.

"I'll be there in twenty."

* * *

Jon grabbed two taco dinners at the stand, then fought the human traffic of those who were skittering out of their offices at the end of their work day.

He followed Dany’s texted directions to stop at the front desk where a woman named Gilly would be to escort him to her office, as she would wait for him before taking off for the day. First, he was taken by how fanciful it was as he stepped onto marble flooring, which encased most of the interior of the building. A thick, woven rug was placed in the middle, just before the desk, the furnishings all shining polished wood and a few bookshelves boasted the works of authors who had published works through here.

Thankfully, he didn’t have to wander, as the aforementioned desk and Gilly were already there to greet him. When Jon tore himself away from the spines of the books, making mental notes of titles and authors, he drifted his attention over to the young woman, whose face was redder than the slipcover he had just been admiring on its shelf.

Her light colored eyes were widen, her arms stiff at her sides where she sat, and Jon knew she was grasping her seat. Jon blinked, cautiously approaching her, clearing his throat. “You must be Gilly,” he said quietly, double-checking the name plate on the desk beforehand to be certain.

She blinked rapidly, suddenly sitting ramrod straight with such haste Jon thought she might fall out of her seat. He tried to not pull any accidental faces, but if it were possible for her blush to deepen, he feared her skin may actually burn through.

“Y-es. And you are J-Jon?” Slowly she pushed to her feet, but without a wobble.

“Aye,” he returned, eyes narrowing ever so slightly at her unusual behavior. Perhaps he held a similar appearance to one of their more successful clients, or a higher-up, because he couldn’t remember a time anyone acted this way when he walked into a room. “Here to see Daenerys,” he pressed over her gaping when she didn’t seem to appear to want to do anything but. Now it was his turn to warm, though it was her scrutinizing circular eyes that were making him uncomfortable.

“Right,” she managed, making it around her desk safely, lifting her hair off the back of her neck and flapping it as if to cool down as she, apparently, was leading the way. He followed, trying to smooth his deep frown as best he could, though further agitating it when he realized they would be getting in an elevator together.

While they waited for the doors to open, Gilly sent a brief glance over toward him, and he didn’t miss the way that they dragged a quick sweep down the length of his body. “Bit hot in here, isn’t it?”  
  
Gnashing his teeth together, it took all of his strength and decency to not ask for a stairwell instead, knowing Dany was only a couple of levels away, but then, of course, the elevator doors pulled open. Jon cleared his throat, following her in and sticking to the opposite wall, not really caring how obvious he was making his discomfort. “Sure,” was all he could manage, though it was evident to him that the heat had been turned down in preparation for the overnight hours.

He kept his eyes fixed to the floor, though out of his peripheral Gilly continued to fiddle with nonexistent creases in her skirt and blouse, fingering through her hair, continuously fidgeting to the point that he tried to think himself out of the confused space. Unfortunately, it didn’t work.

And he had never been more grateful for the _ding_ of the elevator bell; he was certain Gilly was nice enough, but her visual preening he could very much do without. She led the way once more, turning left, and Jon busied himself with peeking through the large glass windows of each room, easily recognizing Dany’s as the only light was on on the floor.

Her shades were drawn closed, so Gilly knocked first, Dany pulling it open a beat later. Instantly, Jon beamed at her, and her beautiful face mirrored it, then fell at the sight of Gilly. “Are you alright? You don’t look alright. Do you have a fever?”

Gilly dodged Dany’s attempt at laying the back of her hand over her forehead, clearing her throat awkwardly. “I’m okay. Just...here’s your guest.”

Blue eyes narrowed slightly with a slow nod. “Boyfriend, Gilly,” she gently corrected, the tiniest of frowns wrinkling her brow at Gilly’s behavior.

“Yes, that’s what I meant,” Gilly squeaked, overcompensating with a violent shake of her head as if she’d just made some enormous slip-up.

“It’s no big deal,” Dany assured softly, sliding over to take Jon’s hand while he waited for Gilly to take her leave. “Why don’t you head on home? Just be sure to lock the front doors and I’ll get the rest.”

“Sure,” Gilly breathed, stumbling over her heels with a backwards step before she corrected herself and made a brisk exit.

“I think your secretary is drunk,” Jon muttered after Dany’s door was closed.

Dany snorted with a shake of her head, tugging him down by the collar to kiss him soundly. “No, you silly man, she was practically drooling. Over you,” she clarified with a laugh when he wagged the bag of tacos in question.

“Me?” He frowned deeply, letting her take him across her office to the pair of chairs behind her desk. In his confused haze, he hadn’t noticed what she was wearing, his eyes landing on her plump arse tucked inside a dark grey pencil skirt, a white button-down blouse tucked into her slim waist.

“Yes, you. I had the same visceral reaction when I first saw you,” she quirked up an eyebrow at him, catching his roaming eyes before he could correct himself, answering her sly smile with an innocent one of his own.

“You were also very drunk,” he teased.

She looked entirely put out. “That doesn’t change anything.”

He tugged her and pecked a kiss to her cheek as they rounded her desk and he placed the two styrofoam containers on her desk, tossing the plastic bag in her trash bin.

“You are the furthest thing from narcissistic. Thank the gods,” she smiled, sitting in her seat and rolling it closer to his, crossing her legs. He took a moment to get a gander for her work space - sometimes you could get to know a person by how they decorated the space they were in more than their own home, but hers was mostly vacant of personal touches, which surprised him. Maybe he was just used to being surrounded by a plethora of bright, primary colors from corner to corner and numerous cartoonish posters.

There were two large floor lamps in the opposite corners to his right as well as two loveseats sitting on either side of a coffee table. A basket of magazines sat atop that, and a small coffee bar against the war with an upscale coffee machine, a scattering of sugars and creams. Mugs were tucked inside the cabinet. Her desk was remarkably organized, a large computer monitor in the corner facing her.

“I know, it’s a little bland in here,” she said, drawing his eyes over to her, “Tyrion insists it’s bad taste to boast personal tastes with potential clients coming in here.”

“Not bland,” he argued, “not when you’re in it.”

He watched as she adorably and humbly smiled, her head lowering to take an intense interest in her food and creating a curtain of hair to block off her rosy cheeks. He chuckled, lifting the lid to his container, eating in a peaceful silence for a few moments.

“How was your day?” Dany asked, pulling her hair over her shoulder, making the creamy expanse of her neck almost too tempting to resist, though by some miracle he managed to do so.

Jon told her about Shireen, something Dany got a magnificent kick out of through strangled apologies in between her giggling. She reached over to pull down his partly unbuttoned collar to see for herself, pulling an apologetic face. Capturing her hand with a grin, he pressed a kiss to her fingers. “It was worth it.”

“Good. There’s more where that came from,” she promised cheekily, lightly scratching at his beard. “What about little Ned? Have you heard anything more on him?”

Heaving a sigh, Jon finished chewing before, his heart heavy. The images of Ned’s bruises still plagued his mind from time to time, deep and ugly as if he had been manhandled and defenseless. “It sounds like he might be permanently placed with his aunt, which is good, but...with her he falls into a different district. So he would have to transfer schools.”

Dany’s face fell, twisting in her chair to face him fully, her brilliant blue eyes wrought with sorrow. “I’m sorry. Can they not make any exceptions so he doesn’t have to deal with so much change so quickly?”

Tipping his head left to right, he crossed his arms loosely over his chest. “I’m hoping I might have some influence in that, but I’m the least qualified person able to make that call. He’s a smart kid, has a lot of friends here.”

“You never know. Out of anyone in the school you know his needs best.”

Jon smiled at that. “Fair point. How was your day?”

A certain glint gleamed in her eyes then, her luscious lips pulling wide. “We may or may not be very, very close to getting our first television show through one of our authors’ book series.”

Jon’s mouth fell agape, brows rising to his hairline. “No shit? That’s amazing! Not the one with the-”

“Dragons?” Her eyes widened like saucers, “Yepp. That very one. But there’s a catch.” Before he could inquire as to what she meant, she pulled up an email document on her computer and rolled her chair aside so he could scoot closer.

“Dany, you have seventy-six unread emails.”

“Finally,” she said dryly, “when I came in, it was over two-hundred.”

“Seven hells,” he retrieved his glasses from his pocket and slid them up his nose, leaning his arm atop the desk to read the bit she highlighted with her mouse.

“This is the outline for the entire series,” Dany clarified softly, then hovered her cursor over the bottom few lines, “and this is how he intends to conclude the main character’s arc.”

Jon read it at least three times. Dany had been ecstatic over this particular fantasy series for a while (‘ _The Dragon’s Conquest_ ’), in frequent contact with the author named Samwell Tarly, about this orphaned dragon queen who suffered numerous tribulations, abuse, and traitorous motives. Her entire story a slow burn to achieving greatness and dreaming of home, finding her place in the world.

But Samwell thought to trip up his readers - to 'subvert expectations', as he put it - she would succumb to a brain rotting madness that plagued her family.

"You're sure he's not just getting a kick out of fucking with you?"

"I'm sure. Look at our email chain," she flicked her finger along her mouse's scroll button, and the screen flashed by with what appeared to be endless correspondence between the two. "And that's just me explaining why it's a terrible idea. He would be the world's most hated author, possibly in recent memory if his books become bestsellers. He's on the fast track to that already."

"To being most hated or bestseller?”

Dany snorted. “Possibly both, but I think he’s finally coming around to my persuading. He can’t call it _The Dragon’s Conquest_ when she dies in the end. The next step is finding out where he lives.”

Jon swiveled his chair so that he was facing her, then reached forward and dragged her chair forward until her knees bumped with his, making her yelp. “I don’t make enough money to bail you out of jail,” he smirked, tugging her hand and seating her in his lap.

“Guess you’ll just have to be my accomplice then,” she shrugged with a dramatic sigh, looping her arms around his shoulders.

“I have a better proposition,” Jon offered, tilting his chin up so he could see those beautiful eyes, her dark brow lifted in playful challenge, though what he was going to ask wasn’t on topic with their current discussion. “What would you say if I asked you to come with me to my mum’s house for Christmas?”

Her pink lips fell open, her face contorting to one of surprise.

He grimaced slightly, wrinkling his nose. “I know, it’s probably premature to ask something like that so soon, it’s just-”

With a fervent shake of her head, she dropped her head to kiss him and effectively silence him. When she pulled back, he was taken aback to find her eyes damp, and he wrinkled his brow. “Are you alright?” He soothed his thumb over the apple of her cheek as she nodded.

“I’d love to,” she whispered, relief loosening his tense muscles.

“Are you sure? I mean, it’s only my mum, but…,” he half smiled, winding his arm back around her to hold her close.

“I’m sure,” she gave him a warm smile, melting into him, pausing for a few beats. “I’ve never played meet-the-family before. There’s a high chance I might fuck it up.”

Jon chuckled, kissing her shoulder. “Not a chance. If there’s anything I should be worried about, it’s her permanently adopting you. Don’t forget, she never had any daughters. Just me to deal with.”

“Because I’m sure you were such a burden,” Dany pinched his ribs, and as always fell deflated remembering he wasn’t ticklish. “When Daario and I were together, it was months before I finally had the guts to ask him when I would be able to meet his family. He kept putting it off, making weird excuses that didn’t make sense. They lived nearby, and I know he dropped by there sometimes, when I wasn’t around. It turned out he was embarrassed by me, and told me as much one night when he got completely shit-faced.”

Gods, Jon wasn’t sure he could hate a human being as much as he did this Daario character. He was revolting, and only spurred Jon’s wishes in how he really should have taken advantage at the Halloween party and gotten a few more good punches in. At the very least.

He lifted his hand to turn her face toward him gently. “He’s the one who should be embarrassed. His minimal good looks are wasted on shit for personality.”

Dany breathed a laugh through her nose, stretching her neck to kiss him firmly, the tease of her tongue provoking him to slant his mouth deeper over hers. In the next breath, she was rotating to straddle his lap, but the awkward, uncomfortable shape of the chair didn’t allow for enough room to seat herself, so he took a handful of her ass in his hands and pushed to his feet.

Delighted by her squeal of surprise, she wrapped her legs around his waist, her nails lightly scraping the small expanse of skin along his neck, forcing a groan out of him. He seated her atop her desk after half blindly disposing of their empty dinner plates, sliding his hands down to her hips to pull her as flush against him as he could with her damned skirt in the way.

“Wait,” she broke away, panting, a gleeful glint in her eyes as she slid off the surface, his teeth digging into his lip as she grazed over his cock straining against his trousers. He watched her as she toed off her strappy heels, discarding one and then the other carelessly across the room, then clicked her office door locked and switched off the lights.

* * *

They both had busy days ahead of them tomorrow - nothing out of the ordinary about that - but somehow Dany wound up in his bed that evening, anyway. Not that he was complaining. They had to make it quick in her office, barely getting just the necessary bits out before he took her atop her desk when her boss had made an unexpected return to the office for some report he had forgotten. It had been far closer than Jon was comfortable with, even with her lights off and door locked, fear gripped him that this Tyrion fellow would have noticed Dany’s car as one of the few left in the lot and decide to drop in on her office.

Luckily, he had only passed through the tiny slits of her window, where the curtain didn’t lay, twice as necessary. He would have hated himself if she had been caught and it would have been entirely his fault. She’d chided him, saying it took two to tango, so to speak, but it mattered not. He took her home and they took their time, now sidled up together in his bed…

“Worst pick-up line,” he offered, his fingertips dancing light lines up and down Dany’s bare arm, watching in the dim moonlight as gooseflesh pricked her skin.

Eyes like jewels peered up at him from where she lay against his chest, his eyebrow raising expectantly. Her face softened with a sigh, pressing closer into his side. “One time, a long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away, Missandei created a profile for me on a dating app. I had no idea she was doing it - it was mostly just silly curiosity. Some guy who was probably old enough to be my father, if not my grandfather, sent a private message saying he wanted to rub me down in oil and roll around on the floor with me.”

Jon grimaced violently, a weird strangled sound emitting from his throat “I don’t think that’s so much a pick-up line as it is a reason for him to be in jail.”

Dany snorted, the feeling of it vibrating against his skin. “Thankfully, it turned out that Missi used a photo of a random model on Google, so my face isn’t permanently stored in his phone for…,” she shivered, “gods know what.”

“I know what,” he lightly shook her with his arm, a sly smirk on his face as she gently whacked him in recompense.

“Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?” She inquired, shifting so that she could see him without straining her neck.

“Aye, but she doesn’t need to know,” he rolled onto his side, his arm curling around her blanketed waist.

There was a small pause before Dany spoke again, her voice small. “What’s she like?”

Nuzzling his face into her hair, he kissed the top of her head. Ghost was dead asleep at their feet, so quiet Jon had almost forgotten he was there. “My unbiased opinion? One of those mums I think every kid would want as a mum.”

Dany hummed a small laugh. “I mean, even if it were biased, it makes sense. I’m pretty sure you’re one of those men that every woman would want.”

“Not true, but even if it were, there’s only one I care about.”

A warm kiss was left against his chest. “You never told me your worst pick-up line.”

He made a nonsensical sound, squeezing his eyes shut. Dany wiggled in his arms. “Unless you suffer from narcolepsy and never told me, you are _not_ asleep. Plus, I would know. You snore as bad as Ghost.”

“I do not snore,” Jon argued, pouting unintentionally. “You drool.”

Scoffing, Dany pinched his ribs, seeming to always forget he wasn’t the least bit ticklish. She, however...was now dissolved into a breathless, tearful mess - it didn’t matter where he dug his fingers, every inch of her reacted, rolling over to pin her to the bed until she begging him to have mercy on her.

“Sorry, can’t hear you, what?” He bit his lower lip, chuckling while her arms weakly tugged against his hand holding them hostage over her pillow, his other pressing into her ribs.

Somehow, he let his guard down and her legs wound around his waist, rolling over to reverse positions. She was panting and hot with a victorious smile on her beautiful face, several strands of silver shrouding around her like a halo. “What I was _going_ to say,” she breathed, “was that _if_ I drool, which I _don’t_ , it would be because I’m just that well-fucked,” she shrugged nonchalantly, the light bounce of her breasts catching his attention as he freed his hands from her hold to smooth over them. Each of her knees were caging his waist, supporting her and not quite seated on his hardening cock.

Brows raising at her proclamation, he let his hands slide further down to grasp her hips and pull her down, a small gasp slipping through her parted lips. "Worst pick-up line," she tried once more, voice straining.

"Don't have one," he said, the look on her face telling him she still didn’t quite believe him. “I swear it. I have a much more pathetic story about a girl I used to like, though,” his face scrunched, already hurting at the thought of that stupid memory. It was what he got for being such a lonely softhearted fool.

Dany’s brows bounced up with intrigue, stilling her roving hips, making him regret this on the double. “Oh? Do tell.”

“Gods,” he groaned, lifting his hands to scrub at his face, palms laying on his cheeks. He heaved a sigh. “Back in my second year of high school, I really liked this girl. Val. She knew I liked her - I guess I didn’t know how to play subtle.”

Dany smirked. “Still don’t,” she said slyly, adjusting herself so that she now lay pressed over him, chin on his chest and her fingers toying with his hair. He gave her arse a light but firm smack, forcing a giggle out of her.

Gods, she was beautiful.

It took him a decent mental push to remember what the bloody hells he was talking about, and realized belatedly how bizarre it was to be speaking on this particular subject matter while lying together naked. And still very randy. “Anyway, one day she asked me to come to her house to listen to this song she had made for someone special, someone she liked a lot. She loved to sing.”

“Was she any good?” Dany asked with genuine interest.

“She was pretty good,” he admitted, curling his arms around her back. “But...I get there, sweating my ass off because her parents weren’t home at the time _and_ I’d never had a girlfriend at that point. It was pretty scandalous by those standards alone.”

Dany rolled her head to the side so that her cheek was flush with his chest, an auspicious smile tugging her plush lips.

With a sigh, he concluded his sad tale. “She played the song for me, this lovey dovey thing that would probably rot your teeth it was so sweet. You know what she said after I practically kissed her feet with praise?”

He nearly laughed, hard, at the anticipation written all over her hopeful eyes.

“She said, ‘ _I needed to get your opinion on it because you’re Robb’s best friend, and I’m giving this to him for Valentine’s day_ ’. Robb is my cousin; she used me to try to get to him.”

All of the softness in Dany’s face flipped like a switch, turning hard and stoney with a deep frown as she whipped her head up. “ _What_? What a bitch; I hate her!”

Jon chuckled, which only grew the more Dany carried on about all the different ways they could seek revenge on Val. It ranged from egging her car and house to even less legal things. 

"It's alright," he assured, "Robb had no interest and turned her down. Poor thing."

Dany quirked a thick brow. "She was cruel to you."

Smiling, he shrugged, reaching his hands down to fill them with her ass. "No real loss for me."

Her hands lowered to cradle his face, leaning up to kiss him sweetly. "If I ever see her in public, she’s dead.”

Barking a laugh, he turned his head to kiss her palm. “You don’t know what she looks like. Honestly, I probably wouldn’t recognize her anymore, either, but I’d rather not keep on about her when I’m laying here naked with you.”

Stubbornly, Dany lifted her eyebrows and mouthed _dead_ anyway, so he pinched her ribs until she couldn’t stand it any longer. After a few moments of that, she relented. “I'm excited to see you with your kids this weekend."

He hummed, staring up at the ceiling, the past few weeks’ of rehearsal with them filling his mind. He’d made a point to reassure his class that the Christmas program was meant to be purely for fun, to not take it too seriously, but to have a good time with it and be proud of the progress they’d made since learning the three songs they would be singing. There was some light dancing, nothing too complicated, and various amounts of hats and props and costumes. Only some of the teachers participated rather than coach from just off-stage, but there was a handful of children with stage fright so alarming that it was giving them stomach aches - and he had been that kid, and still loathed being in any measure of spotlight, but he promised he would put himself dead center with them all if it meant easing some nerves. It got the reception he hoped for, even if he wanted to shrivel up and die on the inside, knowing how much shit he would be getting for it later, but that’s just the sort of professor he strived to be: present, attentive, empathetic...even if it made him a bit uncomfortable.

Dany didn’t know about that bit yet, a little surprise he would keep to himself until she saw for herself. She would get a kick out of it, that was for sure. “Pretty sure I’ll never want to hear _Little Drummer Boy_ for the rest of my life after Saturday. It’s cute as shit when they do it, so it’ll only ruin the original.”

Fingers tracing little shapes over his face, Dany’s eyes softened. “That’s so sweet to say. How are any of your students able to let you go at the end of the year? I would take you home with me.”

“I get the feeling most parents wouldn’t be comfortable with their kid having someone as old as me as their friend,” he snorted, idly playing with long pieces of silver tresses.

Her beautiful eyes narrowed, challenging and playful. “I bet every mum that has met you would die to get in your pants.”

He barked a laugh, rolling them over so that they were laying on their sides and facing one another, legs in a tangle. “Most of them wilt when they get a feel for my professional demeanor and that I’m definitely not going to notice they ‘ _just-so-happened_ ’ to forget to button the rest of their shirt, just to hike their kid’s grade up.”

“So they _are_ dying to get into your pants,” she made a show of gasping, false bewilderment written all over her features, and he knew he shouldn’t have gone down this path - not because there was any actual venom to her words, but because she would not let him live it down without terrorizing him first. “I would be the first in line, scheduling extra _tutoring_ sessions, probably make up more parent-teacher conferences and surprise you when I tell you I found a babysitter for my kid.”

“And you think I’d make an exception to my otherwise pristine reputation, do you?” He husked after a moment, rising partially to bury his face in her neck, leaving soft kisses at her pulse point.

Her arms came to wrap around him, jaw angling to give him more space. “I don’t think it, I _know_ it.”

He grunted in response, tongue flicking out to taste her skin and reveling in the way that her feathery breaths grew shallow. “You’re probably right,” he murmured over her skin, slowly progressing down the column of her neck, “and what would our _lessons_ look like?”

A little hum of satisfaction vibrated her throat. “Too many to count. I can be a slow learner, so...I might need to buy extra time off of you, but we could start with that wicked tongue of yours,” she purred.

_Fuck_. His fatigue tomorrow would be godsdamn worth it, his cock already begging for relief over a few sultry words. He moved one hand to fill his palm with her breast, her nipples already puckered, his mouth abandoning its quest to give attention to it, beginning with barely bringing his lips over the sensitive flesh.

Dany was already arching her back and pushing against him, fingers raking through his hair, making him grin around her. “Like this?” He asked, voice turning husky as he used his tongue to maneuver the peak of her breast into his mouth, circling the hard bud and eliciting a sharp gasp from her pretty mouth, fingers curling against his scalp.

Groaning at the prickly sensation, he halted his movements until she offered him a weak, breathless _yes_ in response. He continued to play with her until she was writhing beneath him and he hadn’t even moved on to her other side yet, let alone to where his destination lay between her silky thighs.

Yes, the fatigue would be well worth it tomorrow.

* * *

His exhaustion snowballed through the next couple of weeks; between grading regular assignments, staying on top of the final essays, the looming Christmas event (which itself was easygoing - it was some of the other staff making a scene over such trivial things that was driving him mad), he couldn’t be more ready for a little respite.

On top of that, he and Dany didn’t have even a minute to be together in person, what with her own hectic schedule and one of their authors on the brink of signing a television deal. Even their calls and texts had dwindled to no fault of anyone. It was a nice sort of exertion, for the most part; they both loved their jobs, even with its occasional kinks and frustrations, and they would be rewarded soon enough when they visited his mum in London the day after the school program.

Additionally, Jon was relieved and endlessly appreciative that Dany wasn't one to be completely put off by the occasional, inescapable demands of his profession. And it wasn’t just that it was one of her many, many qualities that he adored about her, but also that she just... _got_ it. By some luck that he still didn’t think he quite deserved, they weren’t just always on the same page, they completed each others’ sentences.

Before, with his ex, Ygritte, he’d been worn down to little more than bowing and scraping to her every whim and whistle. Resorted to someone he barely recognized. She nagged him on the regular about how he should want better things for himself than teaching ‘ _sewer rats_ ’ and she so lovingly referred to children. In hindsight, and even then, he knew that she feared the day he quit his well-paying bartending job once he secured a teaching position. All he needed the bar for was to get himself through school - his mum had done more than a lifetime’s worth of tending to his every need, and even if she offered to pay his way, he was more than ready to settle into his own independence, much as he appreciated the sentiment.  
  
It had been darker times, a strange couple of years where his life was in suspension and he didn't have a clear vision of what he wanted for himself. Ygritte took advantage of his vulnerability emotionally and physically, as well as financially, until he'd been worn so thin he finally snapped, and had to dig himself out of the hole he had found himself in once she was finally out of his life.

His mum had a large part to play in that, as well. Mothers were always right, as she so loved to remind him, but she wasn’t wrong ( _most_ of the time). She had met Ygritte a grand total of two times over the two years they had been together - one of them being a video call - and it was on the tail end of their relationship when Lyanna had come into town to surprise him for his twentieth birthday. He couldn’t imagine _her_ surprise when she arrived to his apartment at the time, when he was away finishing his final semester at university and then onto a ten-hour shift bartending the local pub, to discover Ygritte holed up with another man when she walked in. Balloons and cake in hand, she once mentioned to him, after a few glasses of wine, that all she wanted to do was shove the cake down that sorry excuse for a man’s throat and then strangle Ygritte with the balloon string.

Lyanna Stark was a _very_ well-mannered, easygoing woman, but when one crossed her or her only child...

Most details had been spared, but he vividly remembered the rage in his usually-tempered mother’s voice when she explained to him, that next morning, what had transpired, and why Ygritte nor her belongings were nowhere to be seen. His mum had, literally, taken it all into her hands, first banishing the strange half-nude man from the flat before anything else. Then, she gave Ygritte the verbal lashing that Lyanna, apparently, had been withholding since she had first gotten a load of the feisty redhead on their video call months prior - to where his mum had later admitted she had gotten horrid vibes from Ygritte right off the bat.

And, lastly, she made Ygritte turn over the key Jon had leant her, asked where all of her belongings were and to stash them away in plastic grocery bags from his kitchen...all before throwing them out into the muck and mud from the three days of torrential downpours they had endured that week.

From four stories high, no less. Jon always thought his mother had put the fear of the seven in Ygritte that night, because for as needy and abusive as she was, she never again contacted Jon for one single thing.

Strangely, that was when he had come to believe in the notion of fate. As terrible as it was for Ygritte to treat him as she did, it made him finally take a step back to reassess what he wanted out of his life. He managed to maintain high marks at school, despite his issues at home and working round the clock between bartending and burying his nose in his books. 

A few meetings with a school counselor helped him realize where his passion lay. He loved to learn and harbored an affinity for both creative thinking and the history of the world. He also just happened to enjoy kids, their naivety and imaginative minds, so what better a way to enthusiastically project his interests than onto a hoard of eight-year-olds? He genuinely enjoyed the content and conjuring up lesson plans and activities to hold their interest. He tried to make it as fun and less droll as was possible; some topics were more difficult than others, but thus far he hadn't received any negative reviews from students, parents, nor his superiors. 

In fact, it was safe to say he had been given so much praise and thanks from parents at conferences (and the odd thoughtful letter or email) that he didn't know what to do with it all. He saw it as simply doing his job, one he happened to love more and more each passing year (and after all of the growing pains were long gone).

Finally, Saturday arrived. Jon had stayed up well past midnight finishing up some little treat baskets for his kids, which included a little bit of candy, a mix of both fun and useful trinkets, and a pocket-sized booklet filled with fact versus fiction regarding historical events. Naturally, he read through it to fact check, and it did check out to being mostly accurate. It was one of those things they would probably never read more than one time, but could spew some facts at their friends when they got older.

He was a bit groggy waking up, nothing too horrible, though he knew it would hit him hard later. He must have begun sleeping past his usual time, deciding he wouldn’t need an alarm today since he wouldn’t have to be at the school until four, but Ghost acted as his alarm instead. By shoving his cold, wet nose in Jon’s face, and when he hadn’t sat up yet, the white fuzzy beast burrowed himself under the arm Jon threw over his eyes to ward him off.

“Alright, alright,” he grumbled, gently and promptly pushing the giant furball away while blindly feeling around for his sweat pants.

Once he had them on, and was awake enough, he grabbed his phone and shuffled out of the room, chuckling sleepily as Ghost danced around him and showed him where his food bowl lay in case he’d forgotten.

“I’ve got ya, boy,” he assured with a good scratch between his pointed ears, dumping in a cup of kibble and some fresh meat and veggies along with it. Once Ghost’s water bowl was cleaned and refilled, he tapped his phone screen open, not at all surprised to find both Dany’s and his mum’s names filling up the display. There were also a couple from his work buddy group chat, mainly confirming the itinerary for the evening and taking the piss out of each other.

Lyanna was reiterating her glee that he would be in town in about twenty-four hours, to remind him of her very strict and explicit no-gift rule (she insisted time and time again, though Jon usually got her some nice jewelry at the very least - and his company), and that she had her home office converted into a bedroom specifically for Ghost. He rolled his eyes. Spoiled rotten git only slept like a king, in a human’s bed, not in any _dog_ bed and on a _floor_ no less. Ghost would _not_ have it.

_Jon: Be nice to Dany. She doesn’t say it but I know she’s making herself sick over making a good first impression._

He didn’t think the caution was really necessary - he _knew_ she would love Dany - but he didn’t want her to be overwhelmed, either. It would only make her, and him in turn, more anxious during their stay.

_Lyanna: She is already a vast improvement from the other one. What was her name? Ingrate? Don’t worry, I promise to be good and spoil her._

_Jon: Better._

He smirked, knowing he would probably get a smack over his head for being smart with her, but such was life. 

_Lyanna: Would you rather have coal for Christmas? Anyway, wish I could be there tonight, but have to wrap some things up at the studio before vaycay. Break a leg. Love you x_

_Jon: Dany said she’d be recording me in all of my operatic glory. Love you, see you soon x_

Closing out of one thread, he began to scour his refrigerator for breakfast ideas when he pulled up Dany’s text thread - and in the knick of time, it seemed.

_Dany: Hey, sleepy head. I woke up before the sun and left you something on your front porch. Is it six o’clock yet? P.M., not A.M…_

Smiling like a fool, he wandered out of his kitchen to the front door, unlocking and unlatching it to find a white, square box sitting there with three hearts drawn over the top in pink marker. When he opened it, back in the kitchen, he groaned: two chocolate-iced donuts, a sugar-free protein bar, and some trail mix lay on a heap of decoratively crinkled bits of paper. Then he laughed - she had been a little flummoxed to learn that one, he rarely indulged on such sugary sweets and two, his referred flavor of choice was the pretty bland option of plain old chocolate icing. He was a simple man.

The jelly and cream-filled ones made his stomach churn, as did the powdered ones. He had cut himself off of most sugar a few years ago when he had fallen into a steady exercise regime, save for the occasional splurge. He knew the days spent at his mum’s would set him back, that he would likely pass out in a sugar coma. Still, he couldn’t turn these down, especially when so much thought had gone into it. He scooped up his phone, then sunk his teeth in the first donut, sighing as Ghost waited for something to fall onto the floor.

_Jon: Why aren’t you here so I can kiss you?_

It wasn’t until he was full to bursting and letting himself digest before his morning workout that his phone dinged again. After he changed into his exercise clothes, he pulled his phone off the end table in the spare bedroom-turned-exercise room.

_Dany: I promise I’ll make it up to you ten-fold. You know I always do ;)_ _  
__P.S. currently at the office negotiating terms for the show (!!!)_ _  
__Do these people not know the meaning of a weekend?_

“Oh, shit,” he murmured; he knew there were mumblings about a potential longterm series, but Dany had still been trying to persuade Samwell Tarly that if he wanted his books to _really_ fly off the shelves, he needed to seriously consider altering his plotted conclusion to the story.

He could only assume she had gotten through to him if negotiations were being had.

_Jon: Shit, that’s huge._

_Dany: That’s what she said_ _  
_ _And she wasn’t wrong, either(:_ _  
_ _  
_Jon snorted with a shake of his head.

_Jon: Filthy. Gonna get yourself in trouble._

_Dany: With whom? You? I hope so. I’m hiding in the break room and drowning my stress in caffeine._

_Jon: What am I going to do with you? How far have you gotten with the Very Important People?_

Whilst he waited, he started his stretches, letting his muscles pull and loosen.

_Dany: Fighting over royalties and creative control. Little do they know I was a Literary Agent intern before editor, so I’m about to bring out the big guns in t-minus three minutes._

_Jon: Knock ‘em dead. See you in the not-too-distant future._

_Dany: If they don’t kill me first… <3 _

* * *

As expected, the meeting most certainly did _not_ kill Dany, but she had to wait for any real conclusion since the reps for the network wanted to bring Valyria Publishing Group’s offer to the table of their own superiors.

Jon was making final preparations at the school when she texted him that she was just leaving the office. All sixteen of his kids were mingling in the classroom while they waited for their turn to head to the auditorium, all dressed in their chosen costumes: elves, reindeer, snowflakes (which were mostly shiny silver leotards with snowflake wings on their backs), and the boldest few that opted to present themselves as gifts, tiny little bodies in cubes made out of cardboard and felt. He would need to be extra careful they didn’t trip down the stairs or tumble off the stage.

“Mr. Snow?” He turned on his heel to find Shireen, one of his several little elves, holding out a velvet Santa hat.

He lifted a brow and turned to fully face her. “For me?”

She nodded resolutely, and then he noticed the little add-ons on each side of the top: two triangular white ears. He plucked it from her hands and gave her a questioning look. “Ghost!” she jabbed a finger toward the framed photo of said animal that sat on his desk, making him chuckle.

“Did you make this?” He inquired as he took a closer look at the stitchwork; it was endearing to see that this was clearly by the hand of an eight-year-old. When she nodded enthusiastically, a large toothy and proud grin stretching her face wide, he emitted a low whistle. “This is some fine work, Shireen,” he smiled warmly before meeting her eyes, speaking with sincerity because his heart was sure to burst (even if Ghost did not deserve more praise than he was already rolling in without lifting a paw), “thank you.”

Shireen bowed her head, face flushing, but then she gasped wildly as she came to realize something very dire. “Is Miss Dany coming to see us?”

He couldn’t help it; he barked a laugh, and now they were drawing a crowd. Evidently, this ambush was planned in advance. His bloody face and neck grew hot under his collar. It occurred to him in that very moment that these sneaky little things had been plotting this for the last couple of weeks, because suddenly questions relating to this ‘mysterious Daenerys’ had more than doubled. He usually kept his private life separate from work, at least _most_ of it, but children were _far_ more observant than he ever gave them credit for. He knew that his reaction was the same as it was now, flushing like a maid, gnashing his teeth together so that that dopey smile didn’t give anything away, but he was caught. Cornered.

Literally, right now, at his desk, with sixteen pairs of eyes ogling him expectantly. Gods, he had only fed them the tiniest bits about Dany - simply bragging, of course, but tiny nonetheless - and here he was.

He crossed his arms and blew a breath out between his lips, pretending to be oh so dismayed. Many of them were giggling. “Aye, but!” He thrust out his index and narrowed his eyes as a chorus of cheers erupted, biting back a grin as he looked pointedly at each of them. “I’ll cut you a deal. I want you to sing your bloody hearts out. Miss Dany has had a bit of a hard last couple of weeks and I know it’ll cheer her right up. And then, maybe I might introduce her to everyone.”

He didn’t even have to give them _the look_ because they were already bouncing on their toes and squealing. He laughed, tugging his Santa-Ghost hat on and checking his phone one last time. One would think Dany was a celebrity by how the little loveable demons accosted him about her.

_Dany: Just parked!_ _  
_ _  
_Jon caught his students’ attention once more, instructing them to line up. They would go on in fifteen minutes, after Edd’s class.

_Jon: I’ll meet you at the auditorium door in five_

Taking his place at the front of the line, he raised his brows at them with a beaming smile. “Ready?”

“ _Ready!_ ”

Once they were all properly crowded back stage, Jon informed them he would be right back, declining to give details on whether or not he was going to meet _Miss Dany_.

He wound his way around the rear hall that met the main drag, finding her just unwinding her scarf and peeling off her coat, her cheeks perfectly pink from the cold and silver hair loose in spirals. Automatically, her face lit up when she looked up to find him approaching. “You’re a sight for sore eyes,” he declared, then her beautiful smile was accompanied by an adorable wrinkle of her nose when she took in what was on his head. She wore sleep deprivation infinitely better than he did.

“Hey,” she greeted cheerily, accepting his short but firm kiss, her cold hand against his face making him frown as he took it between his hands to warm them. “You look unfairly cute,” she noted, lifting her free hand to tweak one plush white dog ear carefully.

A telltale giggle somewhere behind him, and Dany craning her head to peer in that direction, was enough to inform Jon he was being spied on. “Shi _reen_ ,” he called lightly over his shoulder, but her giggles simply disappeared down the hall.

Dany’s dark brows rose with suspicion. Jon could only roll his eyes, good-naturedly of course. “You may or may not have become the talk of the town around here.”

“Oh?” Her arms curled around his middle, taunting. “And why is that, pray tell?”

He drew his lip between his teeth and cheeky smirk, dipping his head to kiss her softly, sighing against her. “I’ll give you one guess. I should get out there.”

“Yes, you should. Let me hear those pipes of yours,” she pecked him one final time before he walked her to the double doors leading into the auditorium, continuing down the walkway to the third row and straight in the middle where one seat was open between the other claimed ones. She cut him a curious look.

“Saved you the best seat in the house,” he nodded his head toward the red plush seat donned a white paper over it with the word _RESERVED_ typed up in bold font.

She blushed, and it didn’t go unnoticed by him that she corrected her hand before it could give his ass an appreciative squeeze in front of the two-hundred people surrounding them, instead going for his hand. 

Once he was tucked away back stage, the stage being reset to accommodate their scenes, he peaked out from behind the curtain. It was quite overwhelming to see so many faces that would be trained on them - he wasn’t exactly keen on being in the spotlights of the stage - but at least the bright lights in his face would drown out most of the audience. He was absolutely chuffed by the turnout, of course, but still, large crowds made him shrivel up.

Red lights flooded the stage, two benches side-by-side set up to perch some of the shorter children on. “Alright, ready? You remember the set-up?”

They all muttered in agreement as they took to their places; eight in front, eight in back. The background was a snowy mountain range with Santa in his sleigh and reindeer hanging by fishing wire, red and green lights dousing them. Jon helped a few of the smaller lot up onto the bench, then took up his own spot which was a simple wooden chair behind the group. There was nervous chitter chatter and nonstop movement from them until one of the stage hands gave them the countdown, the music preceding the curtains opening. The audience erupted with cheers, but instantly died down when the singing begun.

While Jon _did_ participate in the singing, as promised, he also opted to lip-sync a few lines at a time, only because hearing the dissonance of sixteen voices, belting out every word like their lives depended on it, filled his heart to the brim with emotion. After the second song - _Rockin Around the Christmas Tree_ \- which involved various ‘dance’ moves, he was able to spot a head of silver hair in the crowd, though the glare of the overhead lights made everything hazy, even in the third row.

It wasn’t until they reached the penultimate song - _I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Clause_ \- that he noticed something was...off. The first verse and chorus were fine lyrically, but the more they sang, the less they were able to keep themselves together. Many of them totally dissolved into fits of laughter and snorts, and even Jon was struggling to keep them going to the end.

Until with utmost dedication, the next verse was unanimously changed.

“ _I SAW DANY KISSING JONNY CLAUSE!”_

All he could do was stand there, frozen, eyes bugging and wishing more than _anything_ he could get a clear view of Dany’s face right now. The crowd was almost deafeningly loud as they cheered and whistled and clapped; clearly, they knew who _Jonny Clause_ was, although having every single child in front of him turn around to sing it to his face probably helped. He was horrified even as he laughed with them, snatching the hem of his hat and pulling it over his face, throwing his head back. Playing along, he shook his head and was grateful for the overbearing red lighting, because his face felt hot as the seven hells.

He was _fairly_ certain Dany’s whimsical giggle sounded between brief lulls in the audience’s amusement.

Finally, they ended with _We Wish You A Merry Christmas_ , and he released a heavy breath of relief when everyone stood to their feet to cheer for them until the curtains fell again. Without missing a beat, a symphony of giggles and breathless conversation filled his ears as they filed back off the stage once more.

There was a tug on his hand, and he looked down to find one very suspect little girl with twinkling eyes grinning up at him. “Did you like our song, Mr. Snow?”

He wasn’t even remotely angry, nor bothered - it was innocent, and it would give himself and Dany something to laugh about over their little getaway. Still, he took up Shireen’s hand and crouched down to his knees, wanting to reassure her so that she didn’t worry herself too much. Once more, the rest of them flocked closer, and he made sure to look at each and every one of them. “I loved it. All of you did _amazing_ , and yes, I found your rendition to be quite _charming_."

"Did Miss Dany like it?" Alys Karstark piped in.

Jon smiled. "I'm sure she did," he slowly looked around at each of them, conspiratorially, "should we ask her?"

There was a babel of indisputable _yes_ 's, a couple of the gift-box-wrapped kids wobbling dangerously. 

"Okay, you know the way back to the classroom. Go on ahead and I'll bring Miss Dany."

They didn't bother making a line this time and he couldn't bring himself to care or correct them. They were jubilant as they skipped off to the room and Jon went through the side door and found Dany making her way down the aisle, careful to not disturb the next performance coming on soon. Once they were in the hall and the door closed behind them, he blew out a breath and observed her; her cheeks were still pink, though he knew that by now it wasn't from the cold air. "I hope you weren't too mortified," he grimaced.

She looked surprised, then pulled a slightly exasperated smile. "I think I got away easy; only a few people seemed to know who I was, but _everyone_ knew Jonny Clause. And anyway, the entire performance was one of the cutest things I've ever seen in my life."

He smiled at that, but tipped his head back with a groan, while Dany wrapped her arms around him and stood on the tips of her toes to kiss his chin. "Maybe I should transfer schools," he pondered aloud, earning himself a pinch to his cheek.

"You wouldn't," she buffered, pulling his face back down to kiss him.

"They're anxiously awaiting your arrival in the classroom," he murmured against her lips, opening his eyes to read her expression.

"Me?" 

He nodded. "If that's alright with you."

She pecked his lips once more. "Lead the way, Jonny Clause."

He was never going to live that down.

* * *

Needless to say, Dany was a hit. When he brought her into the room, their chatter died off immediately, eyes widening and jaws going slack. The funniest bit was that wasn't too far off from his initial reaction to seeing her for the first time, when Grey had practically dragged him by the ear across the room at Marge's Halloween party. He had maybe a quarter of a second before he was able to right himself and _try_ to act entirely suave. Inside he had been utterly flabbergasted by her.

Dany was swarmed for the better half of an hour, answering questions pertaining to her hair (to which some of them took turns trying to braid, and Dany returned the favor), if she was something out of a fairy tale (Jon wholeheartedly agreed), to creating little paper and felt crafts with them once they caught wind of her sewing abilities.

Jon sat back a bit simply to observe it all. It was possibly the sweetest scene he had ever watched unfold in his life; she was a natural with them, adopted the exact cadence to use to hold their interest, not showing any sign of being inconvenienced even when seven voices were trying to get priority over speaking to her. In fact, that only seemed to excite her more, and she was able to simmer them down and have a little more patience so everyone could get a turn.

It had him feeling a certain kind of way, thinking about things he probably shouldn't be this early in the game...images flooding his mind that only warmed his heart further. But that was sort of the point of dating, was it not? A modernized version of courtship to find someone fit to be a life mate, if intended to be a long-term endeavor.

Even so, he pushed said imaginings away. A conversation for another day, in the distant future.

Before they knew it, after the treat baskets were distributed, parents were trickling in to collect their kids, but not before one more surprise for the night.

A shy little brown-haired boy popped into the room - Jon had forgotten he had an older sister there, tagged along with him - and Ned Umber looked healthier than Jon ever remembered him being. Ned's color was pink where it had been pekid and almost translucent, his eyes brighter and the bruises were no longer hidden by long sleeves, but instead healed and on display in short sleeves and coat in hand.

The class fell silent when Jon went to kneel in front of him, Ned's cheeks red but smile ear to ear when Jon approached. "It's nice to see an old face again," Jon mused, "how are you?"

Ned briefly glanced up at the man and woman that Jon could only assume were his aunt and uncle, then turned to Jon once more. The woman simply nodded, her expression pleasant, and then Ned threw his arms around Jon's shoulders, the force of it nearly tipping him over.

"Oh," Jon breathed, taken aback until he remembered himself and returned the gesture, patting him on the back.

"Thank you," Ned mumbled, voice cracking.

"What ever for?" Jon asked, holding the boy out by his shoulders to examine him.

"Look," Ned replied, standing back and rotating his arms, nothing but clear smooth skin to be accounted for, "they're gone."

The implication hit him then, like a ten tonne weight to his chest: he was thanking him for doing the moral thing, for the domino effect of getting him out of the wretched and cruel environment he'd been trapped in. To his horror, in front of watchful eyes, his own welled with tears. He bit his tongue to subdue them, fighting to keep his voice neutral. "I didn't do anything out of the ordinary, Ned."

"But you did, Mr. Snow," he argued gently, peeking up at his aunt again.

Jon's responding smile was lopsided and humble. "Are you happy?"

Ned nodded with fervor. That was the only thing that mattered, to see his students content whether that be here or at home. "I'm glad," he lightly clapped the young boy's shoulder before pushing to his feet. He was hyper aware of all eyes on them, his hand lifting to scratch his beard whilst a comforting hand shifted over his back. He leaned slightly into Dany's touch, letting her ground him for a moment. It was a bit of a trying day, but in all the best ways he could have hoped.

By the time everyone was collected and well wishes were passed around for their break, and the room emptied, Jon sat heavily on his desk, hands braced to his sides. Dany nudged his legs apart and circled her arms around his shoulders, his own holding her close around her back. For a little while they remained that way, words not yet necessary.

Dany was the first to pull away, only enough to rest her forehead to his. "Do you know how amazing you are?"

Jon made some noncommittal sound, making her brow pinch. "I don't think I deserve-"

Her finger was on his lips before he could finish. "You do. Now stop being so humble and revel in it," she smiled, pressing her lips to his sweetly.

Tugging her closer, he felt a distinct rumble in her stomach below his thumbs, pausing to look at her. He hadn't eaten since mid afternoon, he just realized, and he knew Dany flew from the office straight to the school. "You hungry?"

Her eyes went wide, almost pleading. " _Starving_."

* * *

It had been too long since he'd slept as restful as he had; he and Dany had barely the energy to change into pajamas let alone anything else. First, Jon went and picked them up some Chinese food for dinner while Dany went back home to gather her belongings for London, then met him back at his place. They ate, took care of Ghost, changed, and passed out.

Now they were a trio in Jon’s jeep, Ghost belted in his doggie seatbelt in the back and nose trying to squeeze further out of the window cracked for him. Dany was trying her best to make herself appear cool and calm, but she had been a little more quiet than usual this morning, and he knew her nerves were getting the better of her. He had reassured her countless times that Lyanna would _honest-to-the-gods_ cherish her.

With that said, however, he got it. Dany did not have any family around any longer for him to meet, but if roles were reversed, he would be internally shitting himself, too. They never spoke too much about her family - much of that was because she felt she didn’t want to bring the mood down when they did scrounge up time together, but also because it still hurt. He never pushed; she would tell him one of these days, when she was ready, but that was just another reason why he wanted to make this Christmas a little extra special for her. Halloween she made her own - she was _the_ Halloween Queen, there was no doubt about that. But Christmas she spent every year alone for the last...he didn’t know how many. Ever since her parents had been gone from her life, which he could deduce had been quite a while.

He raised their joined hands from the center console and kissed her knuckles, catching her eyes for a brief moment while they continued down the highway. “You okay?”

There was a silent, but noticeable breath that passed between her lips, then a nod. “I think so. What if I fuck it up?”

Frowning, he laid their hands back down and smoothed his thumb over hers. “You won’t, but regardless, my mum isn’t the end-all be-all. Even if she was vile and despised you - which she _won’t_ \- that doesn’t change anything,” he gave her hand a firm squeeze, to which she responded with one of her own.

“I know. I’ve never done this bit before, so…,” she exhaled once more; he’d never seen her so uneasy.

“It’ll be great. I promise,” he said as they pulled off the highway and came upon the outskirts of the city. At the first red light, he leaned over and gently turned her face so that he could kiss her, none too gently, either. If they didn’t have an audience with Ghost, he would have considered finding an empty parking lot somewhere and assist in loosening her nerves a bit more thoroughly, but there was no way he would be able to concentrate fully with the loveable beast ogling at them like some peeping tom.

Even so, her mouth went slack against his, which indicated he’d done at least somewhat of a decent job. The car behind them honked, making Jon curse against her as she giggled and he straightened to accelerate, careful not to push too hard so he didn’t jostle Ghost.

* * *

For the rest of the ride, Dany’s jitters seemed to have lessened, even as he announced that they were turning onto his mum’s street. He’d been here a handful of times since she moved in about five years ago, but seeing it always left him speechless. Lyanna was on the wealthier side now, what with her bridal studio thriving in almost the heart of London, and she had secured a detached brick, terraced home. He didn’t even want to know how much money she sunk into it, but he was grateful for a driveway and not curbs or meters to worry over.

When they pulled up the long drive and he cut the engine, he turned to regard Dany, who seemed to be in awe of the place. “I expected, at most, a nice flat.”

He snorted. “That was _so_ ten years ago, Dany,” he said in jest, unbuckling himself so he could steal one more kiss from her. “Ready?”

“Ready,” she proclaimed. He figured they could worry about grabbing their luggage a bit later, since Ghost was practically wearing holes in his back seat he was pacing so hard in his limited space. Luckily, he was calm on a leash, so there was no need to worry about smashing his face into the pavement before even greeting his mother. With his free hand, he entwined his fingers with Dany’s, letting Ghost lead the way to the front door.

The doorbell rang, a simple jingle rather than one of those absurd ones that seemed to play an entire suite. After a few beats, Ghost’s head cocked to one side as he heard approaching footsteps, the interior locks unhinged, the white door pulling open to a gasping Lyanna. Jon bit back a grin; her eyes didn’t quite know where to land, but funnily enough, that struggle was more between Dany and Ghost.

He felt Dany’s hand flinch within his, her smile radiant even though his eyes weren’t on her just yet.

His mum’s hands came out in front of her, as if she were going to try and clap a fly, but rather she beamed and momentarily took Dany’s face in them before wrapping her up in one of her infamous hugs. Dany laughed, and Jon couldn’t help but mouth _I told you so_ with a wink.

“My _gods_ is she beautiful!” Lyanna chimed, finally holding Dany out to give her a lookover, Dany’s face a cherry red under her examination. His mum cleared her throat before taking her hands back, correcting her ecstatic voice to her normal octave. “I promised Jon I would not embarrass him too horribly-”

“Too late,” he grumbled, her hand landing light but swift on his shoulder.

“-but it’s a pleasure to meet you,” she finished.

Dany was still trying to recover - he presumed over his mother’s jubilance - but she found her voice. “You as well. Jon has told me nothing but the sweetest things about you.”

Lyanna tipped her head, eyes twinkling. “Likewise.”

Dany’s brows jumped before cutting Jon a look that meant _oh?_

“Alright, give me my granddog,” Lyanna snatched up Ghost’s leash and began walking inside.

“It’s nice to see you again, too, mum,” he said behind her, placing his hand at the small of Dany’s back and letting her step in before him.

Lyanna cackled, apparently tickled by forgetting to properly welcome him, crossing the room before they embraced, kissing one another on the cheek. “Of course I didn’t forget about my favorite son,” she defended.

“You look good,” he noted, reaching down to pet Ghost who was now trying to fight for affection from anyone willing.

His mum spluttered. “With these bags?” She pointed to her left undereye, “Dolce here,” then to her other, “Gabanna there”.

Dany chuckled softly, but Jon didn’t see a single blemish on her face, he would just roll with it. “See? She gets it,” Lyanna looked pointedly to Dany, who drew an invisible circle around her own perfect face, his jaw snapping shut against any argument that was obviously going to be deemed null by the two women.

* * *

**DANY**

"If you're hungry there's leftovers in the refrigerator," Lyanna offered, freeing Ghost of his leash as she led them to the kitchen. "So, Dany, I've heard loads about your affinity for crafting."

Jon went around to peel off her coat for her, her arms sliding out of it as she murmured her thanks before turning her attention to Lyanna. She was a beauty, his mother, and there was absolutely no doubt he was her son. Dark hair, pretty pale skin, grey eyes, northern burr. If Jon were a woman Dany thought this was precisely as she'd imagine him.

"Oh, yeah, mostly in what little free time I have. I usually put all my effort into Halloween and conventions," she smiled, following Jon's lead to sit at the large kitchen island. It was a beautiful house, in only the two rooms she had been in yet, and it was almost impossible to peel her eyes away from the intricate detailing and the charm of it all.

"Well, I do have to make one last run to the studio today, and I thought maybe you might be interested in coming along?" Lyanna said, "I can show you some neat little tricks that might make your life a little bit easier."

Dany blinked, hoping she hadn't been gaping too long, because she felt as though she were in the presence of a magnificent celebrity. "I would love that," she nodded, trying to tame her excitement down to acceptable levels.

Next to her, Jon slid his hand into hers in her lap, chuckling quietly.

"Great! How about we eat some lunch and head out?"

* * *

Conveniently, her studio was a twenty minute walk, and although it was cold, the sun made it bearable to manage. They came upon a main drag, shoulder to shoulder with small, privately owned businesses. A pretty blue sign that had the words ‘ _Stark Stitches_ ’ in loopy, cursive letters was mounted above the door.

When they walked in, they were immediately greeted by a waft of vanilla and cinnamon, and an enormous studio space that Dany never would have guessed was contained within the building from the outside. It was empty, save for two ladies who seemed to be tending to a lovely white bridal gown. When the bell rung, they turned to greet Lyanna, eyes lingering with friendly smiles on herself and more so with Jon, who they recognized.

“Look who decided to roll into town,” the bronze-skinned woman chimed, her dark hair half pulled back away from her structured face. Even without hearing her accent, Dany knew she wasn’t northern, but she had to wonder if everyone in the north was just blessed with good looks at birth. This woman gave Jon a very specific look before crossing the room, eyes fixing onto Dany with a pleasant smile.

“Elia,” Jon greeted, each of them sharing the standard cheek kiss before he introduced the both of them. Elia Martell, one of Lyanna’s longstanding employees, dress embroiderer.

Large, hazel almond eyes found Dany’s, Elia planting her hands firmly onto her hips. “What right do you have looking the way you do? _All_ of you?” She turned her eyes on the trio of them.

“ _Me_?” Dany exhaled, nearly laughing, because this woman was drop-dead gorgeous. “I figured that you were a model when I first saw you.”

Elia swatted the air, lifting a dark brow at Jon. “Well, all I will say is that the world will not forgive you once you two have children, stealing all of the beauty.”

With that, and a wink, she pulled Lyanna aside to talk shop, leaving Dany with flaming cheeks in her wake.

_Bloody hells. These people are as bold as they are beautiful._

An arm curled around her waist, snatching her out of her brief stupor, Jon’s lips coming to press against her temple and speaking there to muffle himself. “You’ll soon realize that many northerners are rather brusque. It’s a blessing and a curse, depending on who’s doing the talkin’.”

Dany turned into him slightly, grasping the lapels of his coat and giving him a tug, smirking. “I’d say I’ve grown used to them.”

He snaked his hands around her waist, beneath her coat, brow quirking. With that look she really just wanted to take him to bed and devour him, or any flat surface if they didn’t have an audience. It _had_ been a couple of weeks since they last had a romp in the sheets, and her body was surely reminding her of that now, but she didn’t know what all they could get away with sharing a space with his mum. Perhaps they could get creative, learn some new things along the way. “Hardly. I don’t think I count.”

Eyes narrowing, she pressed her lips together in a poor attempt to conceal a smile. “Why is that?”

“That wasn’t an invitation to conceive right _now_!” Elia shouted across the room at them, all in good fun of course, though Dany didn’t think they were anywhere near crossing any PDA lines. If she _really_ wanted to test that, Dany had some ideas in mind.

Instead, she and Jon snickered like a couple of naughty children, while Jon settled for a quick kiss to her cheek, but not without giving her something to look forward to in regard to her previous question. “I’ll show you later.”

She nearly whined, clenching her fist to her side once there was space between them so that she wouldn’t smack that perfect ass that was taunting her in those jeans. He at least could have had the decency to wear a longer coat, rather than a bomber jacket with his shirt tucked in, giving her a full view of his luscious butt.

Lyanna was with them once more, clearing her throat, perhaps a bit frazzled by her employee’s comment, or maybe Dany just didn’t know how to read her easily just yet. “Well, my part is done; would you like to see the rest?”

“There’s more?” Dany searched the space, following Lyanna as she walked to the glass panel wall, and slid it open to reveal yet another partition.

_This_ was what she expected - Jon told her that his mother was the designer and the brains behind her own bridal gowns, so the other half must have been for various other works that were non-wedding related. It was very quaint, less contemporary than the other side - wood floors, but brick interior walls, exposed wooden beams and high ceilings. The large windows provided unending natural light, the racks of white fabrics creating a visual as if they were glowing. There was a section at the other end with carpet and a couple of changing rooms, couches and loveseats here and there. Some of the racks boasted other, less common, but equally as stunning colors - blush pink, grey, some of them even with multiple blends.

Through one more door, they filed up a spiral, iron wrought staircase, and then they were in yet another large space, but _this_ was what Lyanna had brought her here for.

“This is where the magic happens,” she remarked, splaying her arms out at the whole of the area, the light just as generous, though a little less sharp - a necessity when trying to achieve accurate coloring.

Dany was stunned speechless, simply shaking her head, unsure where to let her eyes stick. Three of the walls were lined with white shelving that came up to about her fingertips, beneath them two columns of shelving and bins and storage that reached the entire length of each section. Matching cabinets were mounted to the walls in the corners, symmetrically on each parallel wall, a large center island with a lip that let you tuck in your chair so you could rest your arms on top without your knees getting in the way.

There were _so_ many tools, sampled of fabrics and color wheels, yet everything was obscenely organized. “It’s...wow,” she said, maybe a bit stupidly, but this was everything next to the square of space in her home office that constituted as her workspace when she created things by hand. “So this is where you start the process?”

Nodding, Lyanna sat in a spare stool. “I usually map out sketches and blueprints, then I’ll put together a miniature version of my ideas before collaborating with the team. They’re all very good with keeping on top of the latest trends and what brides are looking for each quarter. I’m getting old, so sometimes what I think would look nice was outdated in the eighties.”

Dany giggled at that, slowly walking along the counters, practically drooling over the plethora of heaps of materials at Lyanna’s disposal, not to mention some tools and gadgets she barely recognized. “I don’t think I would ever leave this room.”

When she was heading into university, she had two professions she had in mind: something dabbling in the realm of literature, at any capacity, or the arts, preferably working with textiles. One she would need to choose as her job, the other her hobby, and it wound up being a relatively easy choice: the literary agent intern role she had begun as at her company had opened up at possibly the most perfect time, when she wasn’t yet leaning one way or the other in which concentration she would choose.

Long story short, she loved the internship so much, her mind had been made up after a week or so. And here she was.

“Believe me,” Lyanna laughed, “I hardly do. I’d work at home, but everything is here and accessible.”

Realizing Jon had been mostly quiet, and not wanting him to feel even remotely left out, Dany peered over her shoulder at him, but he seemed to be simply marveling at her instead. She should have remembered that he would be used to this environment by now; Lyanna didn’t become what she was only yesterday. This was as familiar to him as anything else.

After a moment, Lyanna joined her side, open to any and all questions Dany had without any indication she grew bored or annoyed. In fact, her curiosity spurred Jon’s mum on, the excitement of it all making them both shed their coats and play around a bit. She was able to try out some of the fancy machinery, given very articulate tutorials on sewing, textures, cuts, knitting. Lyanna was flummoxed to learn that Dany did _everything_ she had ever made by hand, but impressed all the same.

Jon sat back to allow them the time together, but was watchful and participating when he wanted, rolling his eyes when Lyanna commented on the observation that men who were a bit less than the average height were better off wearing less baggy clothes if they didn’t want to appear even smaller. Jon argued that he came up with that theory long before she had, but that was an argument for another day.

They’d spent something around an hour messing around and absorbing every scrap of information Lyanna fed her until Jon suggested the Christmas market was going on downtown. All on board, they headed home to fetch a car.

* * *

First and foremost, Jon surprised her with an oversized, delicious, warm buttery pretzel, which immediately warmed her from the light breeze that swept through the marketplace. It was the best she had ever had, though what she knew was what was served at conventions, which were probably frozen and then microwaved. Lyanna mentioned something about avoiding too many carbs for herself, then took it upon herself to buy them all hefty ceramic mugs with hot cocoa in them, but then Dany felt all too spoiled, so she accepted this unsaid challenge and got everyone cute little gift boxes with macaroons.

They wandered for a while, then grabbed some dinner at a pasta stand, to which Jon had been muttered that his body was going to go into shock straying from his typical food intake. When Lyanna was not within earshot, Dany promised him they could work it off later, since he was so inclined to show her how _troublesome_ northerners _really_ were.

She _knew_ she was riling him up, and since Lyanna momentarily distracted by an ornament stand, Dany felt like it was an appropriate time to spur him on further. They began walking forward, Jon right on her heels, when she purposely pretended to have dropped something, abruptly bending over and making him bump straight into her ass.

He grunted, steadying himself by grasping her hips, eliciting a snort from her that she covered with her hand as she straightened and turned to look at him with the most virtuous eyes she could put on. “Oops.”

Jon grit his teeth, visibly restraining a smile. “Keep that up and we’ll be arrested for public indecency,” he practically growled.

Dany twisted her eyebrows, feigning ignorance. “Keep what up?”

He yanked her so that the small gap between them closed, making her yelp and a dopey grin break free. “You _know_ what,” he stated, kissing her with more sweetness than the promise behind his words.

It was short, peeling away from one another so they wouldn’t get kicked out for acting like a couple of horny teenagers at a family-friendly event. Jon linked their hands together, checking out a stand that specialized in hand-carved wooden figurines, marveling at the fine details on them. The next one was a vendor who carried all sorts of treats for pets, so naturally they gravitated toward the dog section. Together, they made a little goody bag full of different edible treats and an elk horn he could chew on, then met up with Lyanna once more.

Her purse had several cellophane wrappings sticking out the top, as if she had purchased something from every vendor there. By now, the sun was beginning to set, casting cotton candy hues into the abnormally clear sky day. “Don’t let me spend any more money,” Lyanna chided her own self, “what next?”

Dany looked around them, then to Jon, who had an unnerving, mischievous smirk dancing on his lips. She followed his gaze out toward the ice rink, immediately shaking her head. “No. No way. I will die.”

“What?” It took her a second, and then Lyanna understood, tossing her head back with a cackle Dany probably would never have associated with the woman. “Go on, I want to watch.”

Something resembling a whimper sounded from Dany then, while Jon appeared absolutely chuffed. The team player that she was, she went without dragging her feet as they rented the appropriate sizes of skates for themselves.

Lyanna took a seat on an empty bench after reassuring Jon that she would sit this one out, citing some mild back pain she didn’t want to get out of hand.

Jon knelt before Dany and helped her tighten her laces, ensuring that they wouldn’t slip off mid-glide. Then, he offered her his arm and pulled her up, his sly little smile warbling. “Ready?”

She tightened her arm around his, watching as everyone else moved effortlessly across the ice. Lyanna gave her an encouraging nod. “Don’t let me go?”

“I won’t,” he promised, kissing her forehead before guiding her over the lip of the rink, taking up both of her hands in his as she tested the slickness. It wasn’t half as bad as she’d expected; in fact, as Jon slowly moved himself backwards, and she tried to remember not to cut off the circulation in his own fingers as they moved. So long as she kept the blades straight enough, she propelled with ease.

Since her eyes had been fixed on her feet, she didn’t realize the girlish smile on her face until Jon caught her attention to affirm she was okay, drifting her focus up at him to nod. She couldn’t even find words.

_He’s so ridiculously pretty._

There was a little tug on his full lips, head twisting over his shoulder to confirm he wasn’t about to shove them into anyone else as they rounded a curve. She felt her right skate skid slightly, hands tightening in Jon’s, but he gently instructed her on how to angle her legs on the next go-around so make a smoother turn.

She realized, very quickly, how both arousing and romantic it was to do this with him; even as sappy as it was to think so, it was so easy to let everyone and everything else fall away, the only two people in this rink when she focused enough. But his confidence in the sport itself, his legs gliding and flexing, the way in which his face brightened from the light reflecting off the white ice from the street lamps above them, his tiny smiles the more and more she was able to mirror his movements and do so without breaking a thing.

Maybe it was just chasing the thrill of this very new thing, or being somewhere new and unfamiliar, or meeting her boyfriend’s only living but very important family...but something was transpiring. It wasn’t the first time this very specific feeling threaded through her heart, her chest tightening and giving, heart leaping every single time she found the courage to stop obsessing over her foot movements and met Jon’s gaze, as if she were seeing him for that very first time again. These threads made themselves especially apparent over the last couple of weeks, but there hadn’t been much time to dwell on it - not even when she would lay down to sleep, because she had been so exhausted as of late that her mind didn’t have a second to stew on much about anything.

It was the manner in which her heart palpitated wildly when she put any stock into it, her stomach twisting with anticipation, but of what she didn’t rightly know. Her nerves felt stripped and burning, too.

And she was fairly confident she could read her these unfamiliar feelings in Jon’s molten eyes, too, as if they were approaching this precipice together, neither of them jumping until there was nowhere else to go except to leap.

There was the slightest raise in his brow, and then she felt one of his hands begin to loosen. She began to protest. “You’ve got this, Dany,” he encouraged, finding her eyes for silent permission.

It wasn’t so much the activity that was throwing her off kilter, but the vidi realization blooming in her head and heart.

Still, she trusted him, and freed one hand whilst clinging to his other. He found his place beside her, their arms touching. He squeezed her hand, and she exhaled a relieved laugh when she was able to keep up with him, finding a steady speed. For the turn, Jon moved her hand to his other so her arm was going across him, his free arm curling around her waist as he partly guided them through the angle, but in a way that she had to put some effort in, too.

When she felt brave enough to chance a glance up, she caught Lyanna watching, her eyes almost disappearing with how enormously she was grinning at them. It made Dany’s cheeks flared up with heat, almost losing her balance when her steps became sloppy. Jon had a hold on her, however, not once letting so much as her knees buckle.

“Wanna give it a shot on your own?” He offered, a playful lilt to his tone.

“Uuh…,” she scanned the immediate area; there was plenty of space for her to roam, and to fall, without bringing anyone down with her.

Jon Snow had the audacity to quietly let her hands go while she was distracted, igniting a small squeak out of her once she realized she was drifting along all on her own. Once more, he was in front of her, skating backwards, and just out arms reach, grinning like a madman.

He shrugged nonchalantly. “You’ve got it, see?”

Though she felt incredibly terrible at it, her movements nowhere near as fluid as the asshole who decided he needed to do some Olympian-like twirl as he passed her, kicking up freezing bits of ice into her face, she _was_ progressing just fine. She wrinkled her nose at Jon, who looked as though he was ready to chase after the idiot and trip him up, but said show-off was now turning casual skating into a full-on performance by twirling his partner up in the air.

Dany cut Jon a playfully expectant look, his head cocking slightly despite his ire at the man. “Well? Aren’t we going to give them some competition?”

A crooked grin spread over his lips, eyes narrowing suspiciously. “You want me to throw you?”

She laughed, shaking her head. “ _No_ , I’d like to be in one piece for Christmas tomorrow. We’ll just have to get creative.”

Jon eyed the other couple briefly, his mental gears turning before he was suddenly skidding to a stop, forcing her to collide with him.

“That’s not-!” She yelped as he rounded behind her, swiftly picking her up so she was draped over his arms, her own locking around his shoulders, a giggle already building in her chest when she next spoke. “Please don’t tell me I’m just now going to find out about your secret pastime of being a professional ice skater.”

He chuckled, keeping to the outer edge of the rink, determination written all over his face. “No, but of being a smartass, aye.”

“That’s not new,” she leaned down to kiss his cheek, twisting her neck to see...that they were trailing behind the Olympic Assholes.

The next thing she knew, the woman was propped up in a complicated-looking position, the man’s hands digging into her legs as they spun. And then, her own world was doing the same, except that Jon’s motions were much slower and wider, and she tossed her head back in an uncontrolled cackle upon realization that his intention was to make them appear as the watered down version of the professionals.

Even so, she had to admit that it had to have been an impossible feat to do even what Jon was doing, but at present, her eyes were leaking she was having such giggle fits, so she felt more than she saw the space around them. She also managed to hear distant laughter from strangers, and Jon trying to do as much but getting a bit winded, so he brought them to a gradual halt. Panting, he chuckled gruffly at her state, her legs a little unsteady once he set her down.

When she looked over his shoulder, Olympic Assholes looked most displeased by their display, _literally_ sticking their noses up in the air at them. Jon turned to get a glimpse, a satisfied smirk lying there. “Mission accomplished.”

Dany dabbed her cheeks and under-eyes with the sleeve of her coat so the wetness wouldn’t freeze to her skin, then wound her arms around Jon’s shoulders and kiss him soundly, uncaring as to who was watching or what they thought. His strong arms squeezed her to him, briefly lifting her off her feet, nudging her nose. “I suppose we ought to go make sure my mum didn’t leave without us.”

Nodding, Dany gave him one last kiss before they made their way to the exit. She didn’t realize it was true night now, the market illuminated by a plethora of lights. Jon helped her out and to sit, where Lyanna, in fact, did not run away, but clapped once they returned.

“I think you got more praise than that other guy,” she mused, nodding toward Olympic Assholes who were back burning holes in the ice amid the families just trying to enjoy a casual time.

“Good. He was a dick,” Jon declared.

Lyanna sighed. “So shrewd, my dear.”

“He got an ice chunk in my eyeball,” Dany said. She could still feel the slight sting of where it made contact, as if part of her eyes had frozen with it.

“What a dick,” Lyanna scoffed, now in agreement with her son, as Dany met Jon’s perplexed expression as they were bending over to unlace their ties, forcing a chuckle from her.

* * *

After a quick snack and Ghost was well and truly spoiled to death by attention by getting half of Lyanna’s bed, she bid them goodnight, reminding them to be sure not to stay up too late, a habit she never let go of since Jon was old enough to determine his own bed time. Dany took a quick shower and waited for Jon in his designated bedroom while he took his - she would have offered to save water and just take it together, but she knew what that would lead to, and the acoustics in there carried further than the bedroom.

Dany was still perplexed by the beauty of the house, though Jon promised to give her a proper tour tomorrow when it was light out again. It somehow was a perfect blend of contemporary with the old charm the place still hosted, and Jon’s designated room was no different. She wasn’t used to having carpet in her house, but it was a welcome feeling against her chilly toes while she crossed the room to lay atop the king-sized bed. The linen smelled like fresh cotton and something vaguely of cinnamon. The walls were painted a slate gray that she swore had a purple tone to it, white crown molding, a couple of framed art pieces hung here and there.

She flopped into the middle of the bed, crossing her leg over her propped knee, the excitement of the day catching up to her.

She didn’t even hear the door open when Jon spoke. “You have no right lookin’ like that.”

Inching herself over a bit so she could see him. She had shucked off her own clothes in favor of one of Jon’s shirts; something about them was far more comfortable than her own, and whenever he left one behind at her house, she wore them to bed without question. She’d foregone pants, however, but he was a terrible hypocrite with his torso bare, hair swept back in wet curls, his towel hanging precariously low on his slim hips.

“You’re one to talk,” she argued, lifting one brow in challenge.

His eyes looked black as pitch from where she lay, a giddiness taking hold of her when he reached behind him to turn the lock to the door, eyes never leaving hers. Without warning, he switched off the lights. Even the moon outside didn’t provide enough light for her to see him. She sat up on her elbows, snickering when she felt him prowling up onto the bed, the mattress dipping.

His hand found her leg, curled around it, planting that foot to the bed before shouldering her legs open as he crawled up her body. Instinctively, her hands traveled downward to discover he was wonderfully naked, having shed his towel, kneading his tout cheeks in her hands. In the next breath his mouth was moving over hers, prying it open with his lips as he took initiative and consumed her, his tongue sweeping over hers and suckling her lips.

A soft moan was drowned out with his own mouth, feeling a tug on her (his) shirt as she pulled apart from him only to be rid of it. Rather than come back for more of her lips, he growled when his hands slid up her sides to massage her breasts, discovering she hadn’t bothered with a bra. She usually didn’t when she slept, anyway, but he was still happy with that fact.

Her mouth fell open with a stuttered gasp when his tongue circled her already straining nipple, pulling it through his plump lips with just the right vigor to make her moan, but she had to muffle herself against her hand.

“Fuck,” he groaned against her sensitive skin, his hips lowering to grind against her cunt, his cock stiff and hot through the thin frabric of her panties. He licked across her breast bone until he reached the other side, his tongue and pelvis moving together in a tandem, and she didn’t know how she was going to keep herself silent and sane.

The hand that wasn’t clamped over her mouth weaved into his damp hair, lifting her hips to slide down the length of him. His head dropped against her chest, teeth nipping the top of her breast to distract himself so he, too, wouldn’t make a sound.

Dany had seen where Lyanna’s bedroom was; it wasn’t right next door, by any means, but sound seemed to carry over the wood floors outside their door, and she didn’t want to risk one very awkward Christmas morning.

Freeing her hands, she went to hook her fingers in the band of her panties, but Jon took over for her, his body heat sorely missed as he sat back and shed her last bit of clothing. To tease and torture her, he yanked her legs to him so that he could glide his cock over her soaking cunt, muting her moan with the back of her tongue as her back curved into him to find more pressure.

Jon was struggling; she could hear how calculated his movements were, trying to not do anything spontaneous that would have them giving his mother a terrible wake-up call. He ground himself against her, slow and wonderful and maddening all at once, her cunt grasping for him.

After a few strokes and heady grunts, his hands were on her waist, gently flipping her over onto her hands and knees.

_Oh_.

He molded himself over her, the feeling familiar and comforting, his breath against her ear making her shoulder lift from the tickle of his beard against her skin. “Is this okay?” He kissed the tip of her ear.

She nodded, then remembered he couldn’t see her. “Yes.”

Expecting the nudge of his cock at any moment, as he moved back again, she white-knuckled the duvet below her, but then she had a fraction of a second to let her brain acknowledge that his warm breath was over her cunt before he dove in. Her entire face pinched tightly, forehead falling to the mattress as she fought to not scream. His tongue swept up her seam, fingers parting her open as he made certain not to leave any bit of flesh untouched. Her chin turned up so that she could let loose one cry into the safety of the material below her, her thighs already a quivering mess, a thin layer of sweat blossoming over her skin.

The vibration of his grunts was making her head spin dangerously, and she must have teetered without realizing it, his arms locking around her thighs to steady her as he worked her from her oversensitive clit to tease her entrance, back and forth, winding her into a near-writhing frenzy.

Dany rotated her face to press her cheek into the bed, bringing her elbows closer to her middle for better balance, ever so slightly pushing back onto him, the coil that he was winding becoming impossibly rigid beyond its limit. Quick, heavy pants abandoned her open mouth, eyes squeezed shut and teeth clenching together when he slid two fingers into her neglected channel, once more needing to dampen her sounds against her arm.

It was almost agonizing in the way that she _needed_ to wail, that need almost painful as he pumped her in a quick, steady rhythm, withdrawing his fingers to slide up her nether lips and circle her clit.

_I’m going to black out_.

Her eyes were open, and it was totally dark in the bedroom, but she could feel her own eyes disappearing into an entirely different universe, the lewd sounds Jon was emitting against her driving her _up the fucking wall._

“I’m...I’m gonna come,” she breathed, her voice a pitch higher, and just as she approached that brink, he was gone, giving her only a beat to collect a lung full of air before his hips snapped his cock to the hilt inside of her.

“F-,” she hastily grabbed a pillow and smashed her face into it, “ _fuck!_ ”

Jon’s chuckle was a hot pant against her neck, his body bowed over her once more, his taut shifting muscles covering her back as he used the full length of his cock to pull out to the head and drive in. He slid one hand up to cover hers, her fingers opening to lace and squeeze in his, while his other fingers still coated with her juices wound around her hips to draw bluntly over her clit. The Evenstar pendant he had gifted her on that fateful Halloween night, which she had never once taken off, swayed violently as it hung from her neck.

She could tell he was still holding back, but wanted to give more, his body quivering with restraint; _she_ needed more. “Faster, Jon,” she said on a desperate breath, bracing herself by laying her upper body flat against the bed with her hips in the air.

“Godsdamnit, Dany,” he moaned at the altered position. She hooked her arm over to sink her fingers in his hair, now warm and damp from their activities, bringing his face to the back of her shoulder, the closest she could get him to her own.

Once they were situated, he tested her request with a thrust that moved her up to bed, paired with Jon’s teeth sinking into her shoulder. “Oh, _gods_ ,” she whispered harshly as he did it once more, again and again until that crest was approaching at record speed, his pace frantic and punishing and his hot breaths comingling with hers as she refused to turn her head away for any reason.

A tiny squeak managed to escape her throat, her chest so full of air from withholding it all, the bed shifting but thankfully not creaking. Jon stretched his neck further until he was able to crash his mouth against hers, messy and wet and her name a plea spilling from his lips onto hers.

All she could do was nod, knowing the moment she attempted any words, all tension would break and she would most definitely scream. His hips jerked, her cunt already showing signs of soreness, her walls pulling and suctioning him deep inside her womb, so she nodded again, a silent indication that she was ready, too.

Just as her orgasm started, Jon seemed to have found one last scrap of vigor, pulling almost all the way out before managing four long strokes until their skin was slapping together and he was gone, too, mouthing against each other as their bodies tremored, the skin kissing between them slick with sweat, the softest of cries slipping by the both of them even as hard as they tried to swallow them down.

It felt like it had gone on for forever, his cock pulsing and wringing itself out as her full and filled channel squeezed around him. Gradually did his weight sink onto her, the longer they lay there as their lungs grasped for air, fatigue and exhaustion settling over them like a warm blanket. Jon withdrew out of her, rolling onto his side, but there was nothing she wanted more than to still feel all of him, so she instantly curled up against him just as he was pulling her in.

“Is that how the brusque northerners get off, then?” She asked, though her voice barely carried even though she hardly used it.

He hummed a laugh, his fingertips splaying and closing over the top of her bare back, lulling her into a stupor. If she closed her eyes, she knew she would pass out right away, but she fought to keep them open for just a bit longer. “Aye, something like that.”

“You’re too gentlemanly, but I’m not complaining. I think you nearly sent me into another dimension; I can’t imagine going much harder than that.”

Snorting, Jon nuzzled his face into her hair. “I hear they’re pretty relentless. The women, too.”

Dany tilted her head up, disappointed that she still couldn’t see him even a little, but she found his lips regardless, leaving a kiss there. “Oh, yeah? Did you _only_ hear this?” She teased, feeling his lips pull up, his teeth nibbling hers.

“Dany, I don’t think _I_ could go much harder than that,” he conceded, “but if you remember my lovely, lively friend Tormund…”

“Say no more, I already understand,” she laughed lazily, remembering the great brute of a man. His eyes were wild enough, she couldn’t (and didn’t) imagine what he was like in the sheets.

“Did you have fun today?” He asked softly, voice worn as hers.

“More than I know what to do with. Your mum is lovely.”

“She is,” he replied, then let a second pass by. “She likes you, in case you were still worried about that.”

“I’m not,” she admitted, “not anymore, anyway.”

“Good,” he whispered, bringing his lips to press against her forehead.

A mutual silence fell over them, and sleep took hold of her not long after.

* * *

“Dany.”

“Mm?”

“Can’t sleep.”

Dany’s eyes shot open, the cloak of sleep making it uncertain whether or not Jon was in distress, and she was surprised that she could _see_ him now, though it was still sometimes in the middle of the night. Over her shoulder, she found that the curtain had been cracked open, allowing some of the external light to fill in in blue hues.

She returned to Jon, a blanket having been tucked up to her shoulder, reaching out to smooth a hand over his cheek, studying his face thoroughly. “Are you okay?”

Gods, his eyes were arresting, appearing anything other than upset. She wondered what time it was; he seemed wide awake. Finally, he nodded, an easy smile forming. Feeling a bit more conscious now, she propped herself up onto her elbows, her hair tumbling around her shoulders.

His smile was contagious, her own starting now as she considered him, but he was still acting bloody weird. “What is it?”

Lifting his hand, Jon cradled the back of her head before bringing her down to kiss her, slow and sweet. His fingers trailed down her back, back up, and then when he pulled back enough to see her she realized he looked nervous. She moved one hand to his chest, just over his heart, and she could feel it pounding. They were still only hair’s breadth away when he murmured, “I love you.”

Her breath stopped and her eyes burned, and she didn’t know why she felt compelled to search him for what felt like too long; Jon Snow was nothing if not the most honest man she ever knew. This wasn’t some cruel game he was playing. And that’s why her cheeks dampened, the damn tears spilling over before she could stop them. She was still beside herself, hoping beyond hope she hadn’t planted any seeds of doubt in his heart in her momentary shock, until her thumbed away her tears.

“You don’t have to say-”

She kissed him before he could finish, because he was a fool if he even _remotely_ feared she didn’t reciprocate his feelings. It was just that her conscious state had been temporarily rendered defunct by his proclamation, all because they both seemed to have arrived at this realization at about the same time. She poured as much of herself into that kiss as she could before opening her eyes to look square into his. “I love you, Jon,” she whispered, adoring the way that his grey eyes almost disappeared in a crinkle before he was kissing her silly, rolling them over to smush her into the bed. And, because she could never and would never resist, she sunk her hands into the ass that was promised.

“I was already halfway there when I saw you dressed as Aragorn, by the way,” she mumbled against him.

“Pretty fitting for our chosen characters that night,” he agreed, dropping a kiss to her pretty pink lips before dragging his fingers down her neck to the necklace that lay there, his brow drawing in ever so slightly as he inspected it. “I should get you the higher quality one of these.”

Instantly she shook her head, gathering his attention with a lifted eyebrow. “No, it wouldn’t be the same. This one is perfect.”

Dany flattened her hands against his chest and flipped him back over, lying completely on top of him while Jon tugged the blanket up to her shoulders. With a kiss to her head, he secured his arms around her, “sorry I woke you up.”

Lifting her head from where her ear was pressed over his heart. “Jon.”

“Mm?”

“You can wake me up every night, as many times as you’d like, to tell me you love me.”

A growl of appreciation rumbled through his test, arms tightening around her. “Alright. I love you.”

She giggled. “I love you, too.” She let a few moments pass by. “Jon?”

“Mm?”

“It was the rough sex, wasn’t it?”

He emitted a breathy snort, then gave her ass a firm slap beneath the blanket, making her jump, but also rekindle heat low in her belly. “Pain in my ass.”

“Wait. Do that again.”

“What?” His voice was coming back alive, despite the tell-tale signs of grogginess in it not a minute ago. She only felt a _little_ guilty for egging him on.

In response, she lifted her ass slightly, feeling him tense fleetingly below her.

“You _will_ be the death of me, you know. To burn in all of the seven hells.”

She stretched her neck to bite his chin. “What if I made it worth it?”

Again, he growled, though this time it was much more feral. “I don’t know how we’re going to do this quietly, but…”

* * *

They had gotten maybe just a _hair_ carried away last night. But that was the thing; Dany couldn’t be sure if any noise had made it past their bedroom door, even when Jon stuffed the crack under it with a spare blanket in the hopes it might absorb some of the bum slapping going on.

Regardless, in all of their playing, it hardly felt like they slept at all. 

The reason for Dany’s possible mortification was that the energy felt decidedly...off, when she and Jon made their appearance in the living room that morning. Maybe it was that Ghost hogged the bed and thus provided a sleepless night for her (which was bad news, meaning she had been awake to catch wind of their activities), or maybe she simply wasn’t a morning person like Jon.

Either way, Dany struggled between trying to get a read on her whilst avoiding most eye contact. She was sure her face cheeks were as red as her ass cheeks everytime they crossed paths.

Jon didn’t seem to reciprocate her worries, however, trying to reassure her in private that he couldn’t recall any particular moments where they were _that_ o obvious - at least, not in the close proximity of their bedroom. Lyanna was practically across the house, yes, but Dany _vividly_ remembered shouting into the open air when Jon lifted her off the bed. Positively mouthwatering, but also not recommended when sharing a house with others.

Additionally, Jon had said Ghost would have barked to leave Lyanna’s room and then seek theirs out if he had heard anything resembling wild animals fucking each other senseless - to clarify, for her sake, he meant it was Ghost’s hunting instincts that would have kicked in.

She felt better about it for a time, but Lyanna avoided her gaze every time their eyes met, and then she was all too consumed with it again.

Before the gift opening, however, Dany brought Jon back upstairs with her. “I have something for us to wear.”

Grinning, she withdrew two matching ugly sweaters from her suitcase, depositing the one in Jon’s hands for his perusal. His face lit up, mouth forming an ‘o’. “Wow. This is both the most attractive yet hideous piece of clothing I’ve ever seen,” he remarked, leaning down to smack a kiss against her cheek, “I love it. Thank you, love.”

Her stomach was a trainwreck with the new moniker, and she absolutely was going to indulge in that feeling. “You’re welcome, _love_ ,” she winked at him before they pulled the sweatshirts over their heads.

As was her usual, they were Lord of the Rings themed. Navy blue, with the Tree of Gondor stitched white in the middle, the One Ring scripture surrounding it, snowflakes with almost a pixel effect to them, the One Ring itself in gold weaved through across the chest, arms, and torso, as well as a couple other silly patterns. It was gaudy as all hells, and she loved them.

Downstairs, coffee _and_ espresso was prepared, with Jon and Dany making short work of the latter. Everything in her pelvic region was tender, so Jon snuck her a couple ibuprofen with the breakfast sandwiches his mum had been so kind to provide for them.

_Probably knows we worked up an appetite._

Shaking those thoughts away for the time being, she and Jon brought their breakfast into the living room when he stopped abruptly, her behind him.

“Mum?” Jon called out to where Lyanna was in the kitchen. Dany followed his frowned gaze at the wrapped gifts beneath the tree, mouth falling open at Lyanna Stark breaking her own rules. Well, technically they all did - she and Jon went in together to get his mother a couple of things, which were buried somewhere behind the others that certainly weren’t there last night.

“Yes?”

“Thought you insisted on no gifts?”

Making her reappearance, Lyanna shrugged, sipping loudly on her coffee. “Rules are made to be broken.”

Jon scowled. “You are _not_ my mother.”

Still, they gathered around the tree. Ghost wasn’t sure whose side he wanted to stick to, so he plopped down in the middle. Dany gave him all of the pets he deserved and then some. She and Jon emptied Ghost’s doggy stocking first, giving him his antler to keep him busy.

“So, mum…,” Jon began, catching her attention. Dany eyed him warily. Was he…? Jon cleared his throat. “Did you hear that weird noise last night? Sounded a bit like a...feral...thing.”

Dany wanted to absolutely _die_ , pulling the neck of her sweater up to her nose to hide, even if Lyanna may not have really known the context.

To her surprise, and definitely her relief, Lyanna thought on it only for a second, looking none the wiser. “No, but remember I sleep with ear plugs in. Sometimes I get stray cats here and there that come looking for scraps, and raccoons. I _did_ have some work inquiries come through late last night that I had to take care of.”

“Hm,” he slowly turned to look at Dany at his side, nudging her discreetly in a silent _we’re safe_. Dany exhaled quietly, trying to mask the nervous laugh in the material of her top.

Next, Jon and Lyanna spent the first three minutes arguing who should open first - Jon wanted her to go, since she was their host and there were only a couple of things for her, anyway, but Lyanna urged the both of _them_ to go.

“How about we all open one at the same time?” Dany tried, and succeeded. She was barely a teenager when she last did this with family, and usually it was just everyone tearing into gifts and not taking turns. But this was nice - this way they were able to appreciate what everyone got, and it wasn’t so rushed.

To start, Jon and Dany both received a set of cashmere sweaters from his mum, which were impossibly soft beneath her fingers - and expensive, she knew. She rubbed the material against her face, thanks going around.

After Lyanna unraveled the rectangular box in her hands, she flipped open the velvet lid and gasped with one hand flying to her chest. “ _Jon_.”

“I know what you’re going to say,” Jon said, “you have money at your disposal, what do you get the woman who has everything, you know the song...but you never buy anything for yourself, so.”

Dany smiled at Lyanna’s agape jaw as she withdrew the necklace, letting her hand cup the blue sapphire rose at the end of it. The story had been too sweet when Jon had shared it with her: her brother, Ned - Jon’s now-deceased uncle - used to send her blue winter roses every year when they were in bloom. One of her favorite, most-cherished memories had been walking the rose gardens as a child, plucking the sweet roses (much to their mothers’ dismay) and using vine and glue, designed flower crowns to wear around her head as they played.

Since Ned passed, he had no longer been able to send her those roses, and the house had been eventually sold to a new family. Now, she could have one forever, albeit a diamond one.

Lyanna ticked her tongue against her teeth in disbelief, then stood to cross the room and smother Jon in a bear hug. “You spent too much money.”

“My salary isn’t _that_ dismal, mum,” he returned.

After a second, she pulled away, then got a good look at his sweater, a deep frown setting on her pretty face. Dany snorted unbidden. “What in the seven hells…oh, Star Trek.”

In unison, Dany gasped while Jon groaned. Lyanna swatted at the air toward the pair of them, shifting her hair so she could clasp the necklace on. “Same thing, if you ask me.”

“We didn’t,” Jon snarked, getting The Mum Look for his comment.

As Jon reclaimed his spot beside her, Dany pressed her hand over her heart in mock pain for such an offensive comment by his mother.

“I know. I’m appalled,” Jon muttered.

“Ghostie!” Lyanna called, the white beast spinning his head around while his tail thumped over the floor. “Come here! This one’s for you.”

“Spoiled bloody _rotten_ ,” Jon commented with only affection. It was one of his favorite hobbies to take the piss out of his own dog, but she knew they were attached at the hip.

“You will leave my granddog alone,” Lyanna warned with a pretend scowl.

Dany rested her hand on his knee and gave it a squeeze, watching with great amusement as Lyanna was able to coax Ghost into tearing off the wrapping paper to the enormous box that belonged to him. He got about halfway down when Dany leaned forward to help pull the rest of it down.

Lyanna produced a pair of scissors from somewhere and ran it over the tape on top. Jon held the box down as she withdrew the fanciest dog bed Dany had ever seen, something top-of-the-line. It resembled a miniature couch, and not a fraction of a second passed once it was flat on the ground did he pounce into it, tried to dig at the corners but stopped when Jon hissed at him, did a few spins before he found a satisfactory spot.

“You gonna give him his own room now?” Jon asked, shaking his head at the please pup.

“That’s a wonderful idea. I have three spare rooms.”

After that, she hauled out a large cotton sac from the box - half filled with brand new dog toys. Jon could only shake his head as Ghost flew up to bury his head in it, scrounging about to make his first pick. Lyanna clapped with glee, leaning down to scratch at his back.

“Okay, you two next,” she requested, sitting back in her chair.

Jon smirked at Dany, grabbing a thin wrapped object and passing it over to her. Eyes narrowing, Dany couldn’t even begin to guess what it might be, slipping her finger beneath a fold and pulling until a heavyweight envelope was unveiled. She glanced at Jon briefly, whose ankle was crossed over his knee, arm around her shoulders.

Inside were several papers- or, rather brochures, and just like last night when he’d confessed his love for her, it took her eyes and brain a beat to understand what she was looking at.

“Jon…,” she said carefully.

“Mm?”

Her eyes went wide as saucers, blinking rapidly as she flipped through the brochure of the luxury hotel - L'Auberge Del Mar, to be exact - located in San Diego, California. It was so fucking beautiful that she feared she might sob over well-propped marketing photos, though it was much more than that.

She cut her watery eyes to him and he inched closer, wearing an easy smile as he plucked a printed folded paper that was hidden beneath. It was an email confirmation of his purchase with all of the details on it. “Seven days, six nights, less than a thirty minute drive to SDCC. Figured we might as well make a true vacation out of it and be somewhere less crowded than the closer hotels.”

Her arms flung around his shoulders, burying her eyes against her sleeve to dry them, biting her tongue so she _would not_ sob. She refused. And she failed. He held her tight, dropping a kiss to her neck before perching his chin atop her shoulder. While she got herself together, his hand rubbed up and down her back to soothe her. He really had _no_ idea how special he was to her.

“Thank you,” she hiccuped, pulling away. Jon dipped his head to catch her eyes, which were stinging and a little swollen already, as he reached behind him to grab ahold of a couple of tissues on the end table to hand her. She wiped her face and nose dry before letting herself kiss him; his hand cradled the back of her head so she couldn’t get away so quickly, forcing a wet laugh from her. She clung to him again, like a sloth, then craned her head to seek out Lyanna, who probably felt like she was watching some sappy Hallmark movie unravel before her very eyes. “Thank you.”

Her face screwed up into one of surprise, hands going up in defense. “Oh, I didn’t have anything to do with it.”

“Thank you for making him,” Dany clarified, she and Jon erupted into a burst of chuckles, to the point that Lyanna’s eyes watered. Ghost turned around from where he was tearing up his plush toy to shoot them all a stinkeye.

“I love you,” Dany whispered to Jon, stealing a few quick kisses deemed enough before they could make his mother blush and run.

“Let’s give Dany a few minutes to breathe,” Lyanna suggested, pushing over the second-largest box of the morning.

“I hope it’s another dog bed.”

“You have some cheek on you,” Lyanna mused, flicking her son’s shoulder.

He grinned before it took the three of them, once more, to open the box, although this time they didn’t have to - the image was printed on the cardboard. “Holy shit. This is four times the size of my coffee machine.”

Dany’s mouth salivated - an espresso and coffee duo, very similar to the one in Lyanna’s kitchen right now.

“Thanks, mum, you didn’t have to get me anything,” he leaned forward to kiss her cheek, blowing a raspberry between his lips as he stared at it.

All Dany was picturing right then was Jon snazzed up in one of his new cashmere sweaters, the material thin and springy which meant clingy, standing at said new machine, probably getting adorably flustered that he couldn’t figure out the espresso bit. And maybe after she observed the teasing flex of his muscles beneath the material, he would get so bothered he would tear it off, catch her ogling the dimples in his lower back where it curved toward his ass in those jeans, and bend-

“Dany?”

She blinked, eyes meeting Jon’s quizzical ones. “Sorry, what?”

He gestured his head toward Lyanna, who, to her horror, had evidently been trying to grab her attention, so she put on perhaps a too-forced smile to really show her she was listening.

“I don’t have it wrapped, but,” she started, “I’d like to give you complete access to my studio whenever you get the itch. Especially since Jon tells me you two were planning to dress up for your convention, but I mean any time.”

_Oh, fuck, my eyes_. They were burning again, and she rolled her head back to collect herself. Then, her head snapped back into place. “But won’t I be in the way?”

Lyanna made a sputtering sound and waved her off. “There’s plenty of space, plus I’m constantly moving back and forth, here and there. And don’t be shy about it; whatever you need, use it, or you can even bring your own materials since I might not have it all at the time. I can help you out with the machines again, too.”

Dany was on her feet in an instant, a little more gently squeezing Jon’s mum, melting into her embrace, a mother’s hold she hadn’t felt in _years_. That alone had her welling up again, but this time she bit her cheek to stifle it.

“There’s one more thing,” Lyanna noted, half separating to grab a small wrapped square.

“I’ve already been spoiled to death,” Dany croaked, voice threatening to give out completely.

“Hardly,” Jon argued a few feet over, wrinkling her nose at him with a warm smile before she unwrapped it. It was a gift card to Dalston Mill Fabric Shop in London. And she nearly choked when the amount was written just under her thumb, a whopping five hundred pounds. She gasped and grasped Lyanna’s upper arm. Jon snorted.

“Gives you room to experiment,” Lyanna reasoned, laughing softly at Dany’s shock. Truthfully, she never left that state in the last several minutes.

“Thank you so much,” Dany cooed, placing the card inside the envelope with the hotel pamphlets. While she was up, she heaved over the brown paper bag full of goodies for the woman who was very quickly becoming one of her favorite people.

“This isn’t nearly as cool, but my friend, Missandei, has a bunch of connections through some other friends of hers…,” she was careful to set the bag down so as to not jostle the more fragile items inside.

“I’m sure it’s _very_ cool,” Lyanna replied. Dany sat back next to Jon, his face moving to kiss her temple. The first was an enormous bottle of an exotic Italian red wine, to which Lyanna pressed to her chest with a sharp inhale. Dany grinned widely. “This will last me approximately two weeks, and I’ll savor every drop.”

“Mm, you and I have that in common,” Dany chuckled, hoping that wasn’t taken as a false red flag that she was a closeted alcoholic.

The rest of it contained two more wine varieties, a collection of bath salts, a high quality white plush robe, and a box of chocolates Dany from a local shop had discovered on her way to the office two days ago. In all, it was a collection of things she thought might be comforting in the cold north, especially during the brutal snows.

Lyanna was chuffed, her enthusiasm torn between which was her favorite, and she considered pulling on the robe whilst popping open a bottle of wine and dining on chocolates. While most of that didn’t happen just yet, she _did_ pour herself and Dany a hefty glass of the red wine, which instantly warmed Dany’s insides.

Jon was last but not least with Dany’s gifts. It wasn’t nearly as thrilling as his birthday present of the convention, but he adored everything all the same. He’d been commenting here and there over the weeks that the leather messenger bag he carried to and from the school was a bit too small for his workload, so she had indulged in a nice, genuine leather one for him. It was sturdy, waterproof, and it was engineered to put far less strain on backs and shoulders. Jon was strong and stacked, but she didn’t want him needing shoulder surgery lugging around pounds of paperwork all the time. She’d also made a trip to Tormund’s pub and politely asked if she could make a special request for a bottle of the _Beyond The Wall_ ale that he loved so much - a close matched favorite to the one she’d gotten him for his birthday, but this one was strictly curated much further north, and Tormund had all the right contacts to get it done since it was served at his pub. Dany made sure to throw in a little extra cash for his efforts and darted out before he could protest.

Next was a framed photo of them on ‘stage’ at Marge’s Halloween party, accepting their Couples Costume award, looking as equally and endearingly awkward and natural as they could upon a first meeting basis. Missi had taken the photo from the crowd, because naturally she needed evidence that this meeting was fate from the get-go, Jon with a lopsided half-drunk smile, and Dany with a bunched up face and a definitely drunk smile (and sneer). He held the frame like a fragile little newborn, which seemed to take the cake thus far. After each one, he fed her a kiss, passing over the photo so Lyanna could get a glimpse of those first moments together, and just before Jon’s right hook made its appearance.

Finally, she dragged over the heavy box to his feet. This one she was _particularly_ thrilled about. Jon had slowly been progressing through _The Dragon’s Conquest_ in bits and pieces - there were four published books, and fifth on the brink of being released to the public. Jon had completed the fourth novel a few weeks ago, and she gave him mad kudos for zipping through them so quickly despite the insanity that was his end-of-year school schedule. Each book averaged around five-hundred words, some of them longer. He sometimes tried to poke information out of her in regards to the twenty-something characters that made up majority of the stories in the series, since she had inside information, though she knew he didn’t _really_ want spoilers. He just wanted to see how far he could go before she gave something away, but with the industry she worked in, confidentiality came second nature to breathing.

However, she got special permission from Samwell Tarly and her superiors for _this_ one, after having signed her life away on countless pages of NDA’s. The mild anxiety of keeping it safely hidden away in her house wondering what sort of shit she would be in if she were robbed would be worth the torture once Jon saw it.

After he removed the lid to the thick plastic container Dany kept it in, he heaved the thick manuscript onto his lap, brow furrowing as he turned his head to read the unofficial text on the paper cover: _Ice Meets Fire. Samwell Tarly._

An oversized red stamp had been smashed across the front that screamed _Unofficial Manuscript_.

His hands froze, head snapping up to look her in the eye. The shock was written plain on his face, and she clapped her hands. “Are you fucking serious? Sorry, mum,” he added without looking at Lyanna, though she seemed unbothered by his language.

“As a heart attack,” Dany confirmed. “For your eyes only.”

“Holy shit,” he mumbled numbly, gently lifting the first couple of pages to take a peek at the contents, as if needing further proof that it was, indeed, the as-yet-to-be-published fifth book of the _Conquest_ series. With care, he set the manuscript back into the safety of its box before he gathered her up, drowning her face in kisses. “I’ll protect it with my life. I even have a safe at home.”

She arched her neck so she could see him properly, nudging her nose to his scruffy chin. “Don’t worry, it’s me who will have the target on my back. You can help me assemble an escape plan, though. Just in case.”

His plush lips quirked into a coy smile. “Deal.” He pressed one sloppy kiss to her mouth before he removed himself to recover the container.

Maybe it was only Dany’s imagination, but she would have sworn she witnessed Lyanna stealthily wiping away something at the corner of her eye, but she was making an effort to clean up the shredded wrappings for Dany to be sure.

The remainder of the day went by swimmingly. So swimmingly, in fact, that Dany and Lyanna were halfway through the red wine by mid-afternoon, sharing various life stories. At first, Jon only watched the oddity unfold, perfectly entertained, but then he cracked open a beer that Lyanna had stocked for his impending visit.

At some point, the wine took on its full effect and the women even snuggled on the chaise, Jon sitting on the floor against it with his head in Dany’s lap. Lyanna continued to offer fond memories of the life she and Jon shared together, which only served to send Dany’s affection for him well beyond what she thought her heart could handle. How he learned to cook at a young age, sometimes having to be left home alone in spurts when Lyanna worked, sneaking little encouraging notes in her work bag. She hid her stress and worries well, it seemed, but children were more observant than they were given credit for. When Lyanna wasn’t working or sleeping or tidying up, she was helping her son with his schooling when he had a hang-up. He struggled in math, and tutoring from a third party wasn’t really an option financially, and the school at the time didn’t offer anything for free, so it was partially up to her to not have him fall behind.

Eventually, though, he came through.

After another glass, Dany weaved his mum’s hair with intricate braids, her brunette hair impossibly silky and shiny and feeling like liquid between her fingers. Jon had snuck away a little bit over, laying on the couch with Ghost passed out at his feet, manuscript in hand, his head resting on the arm of the couch. Dany crawled over from where she had been perched behind Lyanna, her hair complete and her coles of delight sounding behind her, and gathered up Jon’s curls. He kept them a bit shorter than he used to before she’d known him, but they were just long enough that she could tie little baby braids in them.

He groaned lowly when her nails scraped lightly over his scalp, and before she knew it, the manuscript lay over his belly, hands folded over his chest, soft breaths indicating he had fallen asleep. Her eyes felt heavy, too, though she knew the wine was the source for that. When she looked over her shoulder to get Lyanna’s attention, she too had curled on on the chaise, snoring, making Dany giggle.

Not to be left out, Dany carefully plucked the manuscript from where it lay on Jon and stored it away before she fit herself in the narrow sliver of couch and his body, draping most of herself over him. Her face tucked into his neck, she inhaled the scent of him, and he stirred only enough to wind his arm around her. In his sleep, his face turned into her, lips settling on her forehead.

With the steady lull of his heart against her palm, her heart full and body buzzing from too much wine, she fell asleep with a smile on her face, knowing this was by far the most wholesome Christmas she’d _ever_ had.

  
  
  
________________________________________________________________________________  
  
  
Edited to add what Dany & Jon's sweaters looked like, especially for anyone unfamiliar with Lord of the Rings:  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!!


End file.
